Bittersweet
by Gucia
Summary: A shocking revelation leads Severus Snape to Hogwarts, where he demands the truth from a dead Headmaster's portrait... Many questions are answered and new ones arise as the war continues and an old prophecy brings both clarity and confusion. Post HBP.
1. Revelations

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, sorry! ;P**

**Chapter I**

**Revelations**

"HEADMASTER!" A well-known voice bellowed, alerting the Order members who'd been having a meeting in a large room adjacent to the office of Hogwarts' current Headmistress. They got to their feet as one, wands drawn and hurried to the office, wanting to apprehend the murderer and traitor.

Something in the tall, dark man's furious demeanour stopped them from hurtling the first curses and hexes they could think of, as the wizard strode across the office to face the portrait of a startled, but very awake-looking Dumbledore. They'd been under the impression that the painting had been damaged or poorly crafted, as it hadn't opened its eyes or spoken for the past few months – ever since it had materialised in the office. It took a moment to get over the shock – a moment that made any hope of them cursing Snape right there and then without second thought quite a vain one. The man was oblivious to their presence, or perhaps he had no room to care. He was in such an emotional state as none had ever seen him.

Furious didn't cover it. And there was pure agony in his dark eyes as he confronted the old warlock.

"WOULD YOU…" He broke off to gain at least some modicum of control over himself as his voice shook with rage. He took a deep, harsh breath and his black eyes glared fire at the canvas as his fists unclenched only to clench again at his sides. "WOULD YOU CARE TO EXPLAIN, **_SIR_**, HOW IT IS AT ALL POSSIBLE THAT AN **_ORPHAN, MUGGLE-BORN BOY_**, WHO'D BEEN RAISED AT A **_MUGGLE ORPHANAGE_**, HAPPENS TO BE YOUR **_SON _**AND ALSO MY **_GOD BE DAMNED PSYCHOTIC DRUNK OF A FATHER?!_**"

"Severus…"

"Would you care to explain how **_Tobias Percival 'Snape'_** had come to even **_be_** at an orphanage? I mean, I could understand if you'd given him away if he'd been a couple of years old – that kind of evil, depravity and penchant for cruelty might have been visible by that time – and if that had been the case, I'd rather be surprised you hadn't outright killed the horrid wretch! But certainly you could not have known when he was just three months old? Even **_Voldemort _**had probably resembled a human being at such an age!" The man's hatred – pure and powerful – for his father sent a chill down the shocked observers' spines, but most were too astounded by the implications of Snape's first statement to even try to imagine what could have inspired the strong emotion.

"Severus…"

"DID YOU KNOW," Snape spoke over Dumbledore's second attempt at interrupting the angry torrent of questions and accusations, "that your **_son _**had been abusing your **_grandson_** almost from the moment I'd been born?"

"Severus…"

"DID YOU KNOW," Snape overrode him again, raising his voice even more, his hands and whole frame shaking with barely-controlled emotions, the magic – tangible as it crackled around him – just barely kept from running wild, "that I'd been beaten to the brink of death on a regular basis and that I hadn't had a bone that hadn't been broken or any place on my body that hadn't been severely injured by the time I was **_three_**? It's all in my hospital records. Have you any idea I'd been a regular patient at Saint Mungo's all the years until I came to Hogwarts?" Severus demanded.

There'd been no law protecting children from child abuse when the man had been one. At that time, children were as good as their parents' _property_, and they wereto do with them as they pleased.

"Severus…" Another feeble attempt from Dumbledore's portrait, but Snape was unrelenting.

"DID YOU KNOW THAT I'D BEEN SITTING IN A POOL OF MY OWN BLOOD THE DAY I RECEIVED MY HOGWARTS LETTER? That that piece of parchment, even as I'd held it in bloodstained fingers that had made it almost illegible, had been my only hope? My only hope at _survival_? Because at that point any hope of _life _had been effectively and very literally beaten and bled out of me?"

"Severus, please…" The old warlock cried in distress, now in clear agony himself, but to no avail.

"DID YOU KNOW I WAS YOUR GRANDSON, WHEN I HAD TO STAY AT THAT WRETCHED HOUSE WITH THAT ABOMINABLE MONSTER OF A FATHER AND THAT PATHETIC COWARD OF A MOTHER, WHOM I HAD TO PROTECT, BECAUSE SHE'D BEEN TOO WEAK HERSELF? DID YOU KNOW IT, WHEN YOU SENT ME THERE, EVERY YEAR, DESPITE MY BEGGING AND PLEADING?"

"Se…"

"DID YOU KNOW IT WHEN I WAS TORMENTED HERE, AT YOUR SCHOOL, AND NO ONE EVER LIFTED A FINGER TO HELP? DID YOU KNOW IT, WHEN YOU SENT ME HOME AFTER I'D TRIED TO COMMIT SUICIDE THAT NIGHT IN THE SHRIEKING SHACK? WHEN YOU'D PURPOSELY FLOO-CALLED MY FATHER AND TOLD HIM EVERYTHING? THE WHOLE MISERABLE TRUTH? HAD YOU ANY IDEA THAT I'D BE UNCONSCIOUS WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF STEPPING OUT OF THE FLOO WHEN YOU LET HIM TAKE ME HOME THAT NIGHT?" Snape demanded; the raw pain in his voice and face absolutely heart-wrenching.

"SEVERUS, CHILD, PLEASE LISTEN TO ME…" Dumbledore had become more persistent, as he tried to stem the flowing accusations.

"I'VE SPENT THE PAST 20 YEARS DOING NOTHING BUT LISTENING TO YOU! NOW YOU'LL LISTEN AND, FOR ONCE IN YOU LIFE, ANSWER! TRUTHFULLY!" Snape yelled. "DID YOU KNOW I WAS YOUR GRANDSON, WHEN YOU DID VIRTUALLY EVERYTHING IN YOUR POWER TO PUSH ME TOWARDS VOLDEMORT? DID YOU KNOW IT, WHEN YOU'D BEEN SO FOCUSED ON GETTING SOMEONE INTO HIS RANKS – SOMEONE YOU BELIEVED WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO LAST THERE AND WHOSE CONSCIENCE WOULDN'T ALLOW HIM TO TAKE THE EASY WAY OUT?" Snape paused for breath, stopping the pacing he'd started in an attempt to rail in his emotions. He looked at Dumbledore with cold eyes. "Did you know that, when you'd made your plans and fully intended to use me for your own gain in the upcoming war? Did you know that, every time you sent me to Voldemort, knowing full well that I might not return, or that if I did, I'd be having plenty of new scars to add to my already impressive collection – even with all of my father's childhood legacy having been removed by a friendly Healer at Saint Mungo's before I ever entered Hogwarts? Did you know I was your grandson, when you told me to repeat half of Trelawney's prophecy to Voldemort, in the hope that he'd 'mark' his 'equal', never having told me who the families endangered were, claiming that both were safe, but that Voldemort had to **_choose_** one, nonetheless? Did you know it then? Then, when you made me responsible for the death of the **_one person_** I'd ever really **_loved_** besides **_you_**? When you just as good as made me **_Lily's killer_**?" Tears flickered in those black eyes, but the wizard blinked them away and swiped what he couldn't with his sleeve, before turning an angry gaze at the Headmaster.

"Did you know it, when you made me stay at Hogwarts all these years, knowing full well that this castle, with all its memories, was the last place I wanted to be? Did you know it, when you asked me to go back to Voldemort? When you asked me to spy again? Knowing full well what it entailed?" Snape turned away for a moment, but Dumbledore didn't say anything this time, made no attempt to deny anything, or to calm and console the young, black-haired wizard. At length, Snape turned to the portrait again, but despite his best efforts, he hadn't composed himself… Not at all. Tears had welled up in his large, dark eyes, but he managed to keep them from falling. His face showed anguish, love, the unbearable fear and pain of betrayal and only a small glimmer of hope. In a quiet, barely audible, but clear voice, he uttered the last question.

"Headmaster, did you know that I was your grandson when you asked… when you… when you **begged** me to end your life that night on the Astronomy Tower? When you **begged **me to kill the one person alive that I cared about? A person whom I loved as the father mine had never been to me, and respected as the man to whom I'd willingly given my life, my loyalty and my very soul? A person whom I'd believed was the only one to care about me? Did you know the truth then, when you asked that of me? When you asked me to make that one sacrifice I could not make? When you demanded that I lose my soul to the devil, just as I'd hoped I might finally gain it for myself, by dying of the unfulfilled Vow to Narcissa, but staying loyal to you and the Order, dying for the cause, and at last finding the freedom I'd never had in my whole life?" Severus looked into the Headmaster's blue eyes with his own piercing black ones. A lone, silent tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another… and another… "Please…" He whispered hoarsely, in much the same way as Dumbledore had done on the Tower. "Please, DID YOU KNOW?" The last words were pronounced carefully, as the man tried to keep himself from choking. The previous rage was gone, drained, just as any other emotion but sorrow… and hope. Hope of denial. Hope for some comfort. Hope that the betrayal he'd perceived hadn't truly been… or at least had not gone far… But it was ridiculous! If Dumbledore had known, even if he'd miraculously found out only just before his death, the betrayal would still be more than Severus could bear. More than he could ever comprehend, much less forgive…

Dumbledore closed his eyes and that was answer enough, but still Severus held onto Hope. Isn't she quite the mother of fools? Yet, it is said that all mothers love their children... But Severus' mother hadn't. Why should Hope be any different? Why shouldn't she just be a source of further pain and suffering, just as Eileen had been the cause of additional pain and suffering for Severus, for as long as she'd been alive…

Albus opened his eyes and looked straight into Severus' beseeching ones, knowing that he would hurt him, knowing that that look of love and trust that still lurked in their pained recesses would be irretrievably lost to him after this…

"I **_did_** know, Severus. I knew you were my grandson from the moment I'd read of your birth in the Daily Prophet."

The collective gasp of horror from the Order members did nothing to alert the pair of their presence.

The anguish in Severus' eyes, the unimaginable pain as denial failed, would have broken Albus' heart, were he alive, but he pressed on. The moment of truth had come.

"I knew you were abused as a child." He said, causing Snape to flinch away as if he'd just been hit. "I did not know to what extent, but I suspected it had been terrible when you arrived – tiny, emaciated, haunted and afraid – on your first day at Hogwarts." Severus closed his eyes, to block out the Headmaster, he shook his head in denial, stifling a sob. "I sent you back to him nonetheless, I drove you to Voldemort and then sent you repeatedly to this second tormentor, knowing full well what it would cause you. What it would cost you." There was a long silence, broken only by Severus' harsh breathing.

"What did I ever do to deserve it?" Severus whispered a question he'd been asking ever since he could remember; eyes closed, trying to understand, trying to find reason in this.

"Nothing." Came the solemn, grim reply. "No child could do anything to deserve the treatment you'd received and you, Severus, you especially, because you have a good heart. Despite everything you've suffered, every cruelty and every pain you've endured, you've retained your good heart, your compassion and integrity, your sense of fairness and desire for freedom – freedom for yourself, but most importantly for those who've been denied it, just as you have been. Your strength in facing what you have, your ability to endure, your endless resources, resilience and intelligence, your strength of will and determination, your bravery in doing what must be done in the fight for what you believe is right, your unwavering loyalty, once you've pledged yourself – these are your strengths, and they would never have developed, not like they have, if your circumstances had been different. Those past events have moulded and made you into the person that you are. The extremely powerful wizard and strong, confident man you have become." Dumbledore spoke softly, proudly, but not without the underlying sadness and regret. "Everything you've been through has shaped your destiny and you will soon face the final trial – and you will come out victorious, because you are who life experience and your innate good character have made you."

Snape looked at Dumbledore, tears still in his eyes, a flicker of disbelief, anger and hatred burning somewhere in the back, but muted by the hurt that came first and foremost – overwhelming everything else.

"Nothing I can say will make it any better. Nothing I say can warrant your forgiveness for what I have done. I am well aware of that, Severus, but I need you to know that I **_am_** sorry. Had it been my choice, I would never have allowed you to get hurt. I love you too much; I always have and always will – no matter how it may seem to you or anyone else. I've only ever wanted what was best for you. I had no choice but to act the way I had. You are strong and you will rise above this, and you will be all the stronger for it – that I know – and once you do and once you are, you will fulfil the prophecy that had been made for you, years before you were born…"

"Prophecy?" Severus said in disbelief, he felt like he was in a daze. He could no longer feel anything, not really. "All that… A prophecy?" He repeated. "All that to fulfil a prophecy?"

"Prophecies need to be helped along, as you very well know, they…"

Severus laughed hysterically.

"I had to live through hell, for a _prophecy_! Lily had to die, for a _prophecy_! Frank and Alice have been rendered insane, because of a _prophecy_! My mother had been killed by my father, because of a_ prophecy? _Or was that_ **for** _a_ prophecy? _Had her death been a requirement, or just a side effect? An accident or miscalculation, perhaps – like Alice and Frank Longbottom? There'd been no need for them to suffer, after all. Voldemort had already chosen the 'Chosen One' at that point!" Still hysterical, Severus laughed at the unintended joke at the end of the last sentence. "Chosen the 'Chosen One'!" He chortled quite insanely.

"Severus!"

But the man didn't hear him, he just laughed and laughed, until he collapsed to the floor, and his laughter slowly transformed into weeping and the kneeling man buried his face in his hands.

**TBC…**


	2. The Astronomy Tower

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, sorry! You've got the wrong person. I'd give you the right number, but I'm afraid I don't know it… or think that J. K. Rowling would appreciate it… ;P**

**A/N**

**It was really nice to hear from my reviewers. A special thanks to you! I'm glad you liked it ;)**

**The idea may be considered unique, but I must admit that I've been toying with it ever since I'd read HBP, so it's become old news for me quite some time ago :P The only problem had been in putting it in writing in a relatively palatable way and finding the courage to post it… not to mention the problem of finding the time to do this. Especially with one fic that has been lying around for way too long for me to pick up the thread (Better Dead than Never), another that's still somewhere way closer to the beginning than the end (Black Fathomless Eyes) and a companion piece to a one-shot (Why?) that's been rattling on in my head…**

**Well, after all those positive reviews, I'm sure this chapter will come as a disappointment to those who read it and that I won't be hearing any more from anyone (life is just like that, I know :P), so I'd like to take this opportunity to once again thank everyone who's been kind enough to read the beginning of Bittersweet and who's left a review behind ;)**

**For the record, there should be more chapters coming – not sure how many yet, but some.**

**And in answer to an intriguing question by **excessivelyperky **– I'm open to suggestion about what eternal torture to sentence Dumbledore to. I'm not sure which category he falls into, and I admit to having a slight problem with actually and genuinely hating the old coot… LOL! Not that I don't want to! Just consider what he did to my poor Severus…**

**Because of this, I have no preference regarding the circles yet ;) Boiling him in oil is too mundane, isn't it? LOL! ;D**

**Chapter II**

**The Astronomy Tower**

They'd learned of his continued presence at Hogwarts by accident. Harry had taken out the Marauders' Map and he'd noticed the dot labelled 'Severus Snape' on top of the Astronomy Tower. Most members of the Order had joined the Headmistress in going after him.

Snape was sitting on the stone floor on top of the Astronomy Tower, his back leaning against the wall as his dark, haunted eyes rested unseeingly on the wall and battlements in front of him. His robes and hair were soaking wet. It was clear that he'd spent the whole night here, even with the vicious storm that had raged until dawn.

But the man seemed oblivious to his state and to his surroundings. He was shivering with cold yet besides his arms being wrapped around his legs, there was no other sign that he'd even tried to protect himself from the harsh weather.

No one moved, except for Minerva McGonagall, who took some cautious steps towards the man. She stopped only when she was in front of him, directly in his line of vision, and crouched down to his level.

"Severus…" She whispered softly, not knowing how to reach him and remembering only too well how badly he reacted to physical contact… at least now she knew why.

"Severus… please…" A shudder and gasp from the white-faced, shivering man made her break off. As Snape snapped out of his daze at her words, met her eyes with pain-filled, guilt-ridden, dark, fathomless ones of his own, he could do nothing but look past her, at the battlements and wall...

The wall against which Dumbledore had been slumped, when Snape had arrived that night… The battlements over which his body had flown when Snape had been forced to use wandless magic to hoist the old man's body over and drop it to fall to its death, when his Killing Curse could not work…

No amount of Occlumency training, no amount of willpower… nothing could have made his _Avada Kedavra _a successful one. Not when the recipient was someone he'd loved and respected… Someone whom he loved still, even if he could neither trust, respect, nor forgive him…

"He said that…" He whispered to no one in particular or perhaps to Minerva, but he wasn't looking at her, and his eyes had shown no recognition as they'd briefly settled on her. "Slumped against that wall, he said that, just before I threw him over those battlements… The Killing Curse didn't work… It was the fall that killed him… I had to use wandless magic… _'Severus… Severus… please…'_ His last words, just before I obeyed." He said softly, his voice and face showing no emotion – too drained and exhausted, even if they _could_ have done justice to the torment he was in…

Minerva closed her eyes against tears, but they slipped past regardless.

"I thought you'd gone back to wherever it is that you've been hiding or gone to meet with You-Know-Who by now…" She said at length, her voice quiet. "I didn't know you were still at Hogwarts. You're soaking wet, have you been here all night? In that storm? Have you thought of the danger you were in?" Her pragmatic side took over.

"Thought?" Snape murmured, in a voice that wasn't his, as though considering. "I've been doing a lot of _feeling_, but _thinking_, no, I don't believe I've done _any_ of _that_ lately…" His detachment made her heart clench painfully. This wasn't the man she knew. Even when she'd thought him a heartless, cold-blooded killer and traitor, even then she hadn't seen him as this emotionless shell she saw before her… And this was worse! Times worse! She could understand how any emotions he'd had would have been purged after last night's revelations… after last night's confirmation of what had haunted him in the past and also after the added weight that now made the crime he'd committed in the name of the greater good something that Minerva couldn't imagine anyone having the strength to bear.

"I can't go to Voldemort now, even if he summons me." Said that same detached voice.

"Don't call him that." Minerva scolded sharply, trying to get back to the way things always had been between them.

Confused black eyes turned to her, really seeing her for the first time.

"Didn't you always say that if you got into the habit of calling him anything but the 'Dark Lord', you might slip and call him that to one of his Death Eaters or even to his face?" Minerva told him. "He'd kill you."

A mirthless laugh answered her.

"All he'd have to do to want to torture me to death is look into my mind." He said that lightly as though it were a joke. But to McGonagall it wasn't. It sent a chill down her spine. She was about to say something, when she noticed the thoughtful look in his deep, dark eyes. "I don't think I could Occlude my mind if my life depended on it right now…" He said wearily, but he was there – the man she'd known for years, since he'd been her student – he was there! A bitter, amused smile curled his lips. "Ironically enough, my life _does_ depend on it." He chuckled softly.

Minerva moved to a kneeling position in front of Severus, as her legs chose this moment to protest their age to her. She didn't know what to do or say to the young, hurting wizard beside her. Very badly, almost desperately so, she wanted to comfort him, to pull him into her arms and make the pain go away. She had no children of her own and she'd adopted some of her students as such… Severus was one of those children, but he was too old and too complex a man for a simple embrace to ease his pain and soothe him… no matter that today's circumstances were way beyond anything Minerva could have had any experience with...

She was peripherally aware of the presence of most members of the Order and was glad that Severus wasn't. He was such a proud and private man… Where was that pride now? Her heart ached for its lack, even though she'd often been infuriated by it in the past. Right now, she desperately wanted to witness that arrogance and fierce dignity he'd always worn about him as a cloak… to see that dark head tilted haughtily, that thin mouth twisted in a scowl or smirk… to see those dark, bottomless eyes send a deadly, blood-freezing glare in her direction… to hear that sharp tongue deliver a sarcastic, biting, but always witty retort – the fruit of his quick, agile mind…

The Order had spent the most part of the night discussing what they'd witnessed. No one had stopped Snape when he'd finally managed to gain his footing and when he'd staggered out of the office. No one had said a word… No one had moved… Not until the man had been long gone.

Then they'd grilled the Headmaster's portrait until he'd given them all the information they wanted and even told them how to access some of his memories, which he'd left behind and hidden in his office until such a time when he deemed it necessary for them to know the truth… Them and Severus. Severus had been supposed to learn the truth at a later date – after Voldemort had been killed…

But he'd always been exceptionally intelligent and had always exceeded expectations… not that those had been his grades – he'd been a straight Os student!

Albus Dumbledore had told them of the prophecy that stated clearly that a child that had been 'wilfully abandoned', 'raised in pain and darkness' would be 'irreversibly bound by the rising Darkness only to renounce it'. He would have the 'strength to conquer his past, present and future' as well as, and most importantly, the strength to 'master himself'. That strength would be what will allow for the 'Darkness unfolding' to 'crumble from within' and 'fall under an ancient power' – Harry's, which had been given to him because of his mother's love and sacrifice. The child was called a 'royal bumblebee', which corresponded with his father's surname – Dumbledore, which meant 'bumblebee'; and his mother's surname – Prince, which was as close to 'royalty' as any wizard could get.

Dumbledore had also revealed, that in his pride and arrogance, he'd thought that the 'royal' part of what the child had been named in the prophecy meant his status during the war with Grindelwald. That was why he'd sent his newborn son – Tobias Percival – to an orphanage, under the surname of 'Snape'. He'd believed that the 'Darkness unfolding' was the war with Grindelwald – not a future one. But when it had become clear that he'd been mistaken, he'd been unable to find his son, and when he had, he'd believed it too late, as the boy had entered Hogwarts and had been sorted into Slytherin. He'd been treated horribly by his housemates, since he'd been believed to be a Muggle-born. Then, soon after, Tom Riddle had come to school, having been in the same year as Eileen Prince. Tobias, not a very talented student at Potions, had received some help from the younger Eileen – a talented brewer and unprejudiced girl, who'd been almost as poorly treated by her housemates as Tobias, but for no apparent reason, since she'd been a rich pure-blood. After graduation, Tobias had married Eileen.

It had only been then, upon reading the article in the Daily Prophet, and upon substituting the surname 'Snape' with 'Dumbledore' that the then younger, freshly appointed Headmaster had started to realise his mistake. Until then he'd fervently hoped that Tobias might yet prove himself. Since another article in the Daily Prophet had appeared, announcing the birth of Severus Prince-Snape… or Prince-Dumbledore, as Dumbledore had known he truly was, the old warlock had been certain of who the prophesised 'royal bumblebee' was…

Everyone in that office had been shocked at what they had learned. Even as they'd asked questions and demanded answers, they'd been operating on auto-pilot, too dazed and disbelieving to really process what they had seen and heard… that is until one of the occupants of the office had recovered. Not surprisingly, it took a Slytherin to snap everyone out of the state they'd been in.

"You are one arrogant, manipulative, heartless bastard, Dumbledore – even for a Gryffindor." Phineas Nigellus Black said coldly from his portrait. "It's a small wonder where your _son_ got it from!" Too disgusted to say anything more, the old Slytherin Headmaster abruptly left his portrait, no doubt to visit the one at Grimmauld Place.

His words, as well as the contemptuous looks from the other portraits, prompted the living people present to recover. They saw Albus Dumbledore with new eyes and what they saw was so far removed from the revered hero image they were used to, that they still struggled to come to grips with this new reality…

Harry Potter didn't know what to think anymore, but he knew there was one way to affirm that what Snape had said and what Dumbledore had confirmed was indeed the truth. And if it was…

He could not bring himself to even think about it.

He'd come to view the old warlock as a kind of grandfather-figure and he'd come to care for him… Harry knew deep down that what he'd heard and witnessed had to be true, but he wanted to see it with his own eyes. The irony of his feelings for Dumbledore, as well as his viewing him as his grandfather, while the man was indeed _Severus Snape's_ grandfather and that the former Potions and DADA Professor obviously loved him was not lost on Harry… Neither was the fact that Snape had never betrayed them. That he'd been following orders and that he'd been used so ruthlessly that it was almost beyond human comprehension. By his own grandfather! Harry's own anger at Dumbledore for the secrets he'd kept from him suddenly seemed almost insignificant in light of what the man had deliberately kept from Snape…

The boy found the late Headmaster's Pensieve and Mad-Eye Moody and Bill Weasley were quick to break the wards (apparently some forms of magic took longer to wear off even after the caster's death) surrounding Dumbledore's old desk and find the memories that had been left behind.

The memories only confirmed and shed more light on what had already become quite clear… and then some.

None of the Order members had known of Voldemort's Horcruxes before then and both Harry and the late Headmaster had had a lot to explain…

"How could he?" A soft whisper brought Minerva back to the present. She looked at the man, who'd spoken those words, but not in his usual silky, deadly caressing voice. "No matter what he'd made me suffer at home, at school or at Voldemort's hands… I probably deserved what I got… or if I didn't, I do now, so it was just punishment in advance… But that night… that night _here_, on the Astronomy Tower… How could he force me to do that… our family connection aside, how could he demand that of me? How?" Snape asked, turning his tortured eyes to bore into hers, seeking an answer. "That alone has been enough to drive me almost over the edge… what I'd accidentally found out while researching an ancient spell and potion has just been the last drop to an already full cup of misery… **_How?_** _How could he?_" Severus asked again. No anger – just pain… Just an unspoken agony that he could not keep inside, because he did not have the strength to Occlude his mind or school his features to be anything but an expression of what he truly felt…

At least he could feel again…

Minerva choked back a sob and closed her eyes since she couldn't keep herself from crying… She'd thought she'd cried enough tears lately… For Dumbledore's death, months ago… For Severus' betrayal and loss, at that same time… For Dumbledore's lies and deception, last night… For his terrifyingly cruel and calculated manipulations of those he supposedly cared about… For the pure agony Severus had suffered… was still suffering… For Severus' strength, which she'd believed irreversibly broken, despite the Headmaster's firm assurances to the contrary…

But now she cried because of the strength she saw in the man before her. The indestructible power of his character and will… It was there in his eyes. Almost too deeply hidden in their depths to be deciphered, but that familiar glint of steel lurked beneath all the pain, anger and other confused emotions.

But not least of all, she cried for the words he'd spoken… Spoken with such quiet conviction, in a moment when she knew he could not lie, and therefore spoke the truth… A horrible truth that he earnestly believed in…

He didn't deserve it! He had never deserved it! Any of it! She thought in indignation.

"I don't know, Severus… I don't know…" She sniffed. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

A hesitant hand rested on her shoulder, then another, gently pulling her to rest against a hard chest – broader and more muscular than the black robes he always wore would have led her to imagine – a deep, soothing voice whispered something unintelligible, but comforting in her ear and one of the hands moved from her shoulder to cup the back of her head, while the other rubbed her back gently. She wrapped her own arms around him to offer some comfort in return and she felt him relax into her embrace after only a momentary, instinctive stiffening of muscles.

"What I do know, Severus…" She began, but had to take a long, deep breath before she could manage to continue. "What I _do know_, is that you _never_ deserved what had happened to you... As much as I hate to admit it, Al… **Dumbledore** was right when he said that you couldn't have deserved the treatment you'd received – you more so than others."

Tobias Snape, while he couldn't have deserved what had happened to him as a child, was far more deserving of it than Severus was of what he himself had suffered in his own time. After all, Tobias had let those past events shape him into a cruel, abusive man, while Severus had grown up to be the _protector_, rather than the _abuser_… As Head of Slytherin, he'd successfully dealt with more cases of child-abuse than Minerva cared to think about. The old pure-blood families were very set in their ways and many of them failed to recognise the changes in the Ministry laws that now made child-abuse a serious crime. The Headmistress still wondered how Snape had managed to protect his students without endangering his position as the Order's spy during all the years he'd been teaching.

McGonagall could not bring herself to say the late Headmaster's name… Her disappointment and disillusionment in him were a pain too raw to forget… certainly so soon.

"And if I ever hear you say any different, you will regret it!" She said sternly, looking up at the young man who towered over her even when they were both kneeling.

The disbelief in his eyes hurt her, but not for the obvious reason. It pained her, because it was a testament of how much pain and suffering he'd been through in his relatively short life and of how little reason he had to trust anyone. After all, the one person he'd trusted above all else had just turned out to be his greatest betrayer. "But you were wrong about one other thing, Severus. Others care about you, too. I care. I have for a long time. When I thought you'd betrayed us, I didn't know why I cried… for my own stupidity at having trusted you and having come to see you as the son I'd never had… or for what I saw as your road to self-destruction and your loss… You cannot possibly know how happy I am that you're here; that you'd never betrayed us – never betrayed my trust and love for you…" Minerva said, looking deep into his eyes, despite the tears falling from her own, to make sure he saw the truth of her words. As she studied him, she realised something else. "And Dumbledore was right about one other thing – you are too strong to let this break you." She said earnestly – pride and awe in her grey, bleary eyes. "Knowing that, it goes to reason that 'what doesn't kill us…"

"… makes us stronger'." He whispered in a level voice, closing his eyes a moment, to reign in his emotions. Strange how all of a sudden he could find the strength he needed to control himself…

Logic. Reason. He had to hold on to that. Those were the things that never failed him. This was not the time for feeling sorry for himself. They were in the middle of a war – there would be time enough to settle this once it was over… unless he did not survive, in which case it still made no sense to dwell on these things now. The past was in the past and that was where it would stay! Indefinitely, if need be!

Despite his childhood experiences, it felt good to be held as he was by Minerva. Their friendship over the years had grown to be a strong one… No matter what the students and most other people thought about the dynamics between the Gryffindor Head of House and the former Slytherin Head of House. He hadn't realised it until now, but the Transfigurations Professor had come to fill the part of surrogate mother to him a long time ago… He cared about her. Deeply.

And she claimed to care for him as well. What was more important, her claim was more than that – it was the truth. He'd seen that in her eyes.

Unlike Dumbledore and most other people he knew, she rarely shielded her mind, and she'd always been open with him. Minerva considered honesty as the best policy and Severus had always admired that in the strict, stern Professor.

Perhaps Dumbledore and Lily weren't the only people in the world whom he'd ever really loved…

He shivered from the loss of her warmth, as she pulled away and Minerva noticed. Her maternal instinct took over immediately.

"You need to get yourself into some dry clothes and into a warm, comfortable bed – you must be exhausted and you can't afford to catch a cold…" She looked at him, taking in his shivering, soaked frame. Her own robes were wet, too. "Or maybe even pneumonia." She said critically, a frown marring her forehead and her lips compressing into a thin line, thus eliciting a chuckle from her companion. A rare, oh how preciously rare occurrence, especially without the influence of potions!

However, Severus couldn't help himself. Perhaps it was in reaction to the latest events… There was just something comical in the idea of Minerva McGonagall mothering him like this, when he was a grown man, and in light of everything that had happened.

It was surreal.

Minerva knew that his uncharacteristically affable manner was due to equal parts of exhaustion, pain and anger, and his apparent levity was a measure of defence, meant to counteract them. She was glad that he was feeling up to putting up any defences at all at the moment. To have seen him last night and but moments before without any form of defence around him had been a trial… it just hadn't been _him_ anymore…

Severus tried to get himself under control. He'd found the strength he needed to pull himself together and push the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him to the dark recesses of his mind. All he needed now was some time. Not to heal – he'd never attempted to heal himself in his life – at least not emotionally. But time to recover and regroup.

Pain and anger were a powerful fuel. As were disappointment and guilt. He'd use them well! He had years of experience with utilising what usually hampered others. Those years weren't for nothing... And for the first moment, the little bit of unwelcome truth in what Dumbledore had said the other night hit him… He did have strength. He'd needed it or he would not have survived. He would not let this break him, either. He would recover. He had to. And not just for himself. For Minerva and the others… For his students and the many nameless, faceless innocents he didn't know… Was that the compassion, integrity, determination, and desire for freedom that Dumbledore had spoken about? Was that that bravery in doing everything he could, no matter how terrifying or difficult to achieve the goals he'd set for himself were? Was his using even negative emotions to fuel his diminishing strength the resilience and unlimited resources he'd mentioned?

Severus shook his head imperceptibly to break this line of thought.

Logic and reason.

What else mattered right now?

But what had that prophecy said? He wondered. He decided to ask D… to ask _his_ _grandfather_ all about it. _His_ _grandfather. _It sounded strange even when he only thought it in his own mind. How would it sound spoken aloud? Did he want to find out? He knew he hadn't forgiven the man… He knew it would be a long time before he could even consider it… but maybe? Maybe there was a possibility of that happening after all?

In the next millennia or something…?

_His grandfather_.

**Albus Dumbledore** – hero of the Grindelwald war, brilliant alchemist, a wizard who'd been considered as the most powerful of their age… the man was Severus' _grandfather_…

This was a fact – newly-discovered, but a fact nonetheless – and as such, it had to be accepted. There was no other choice open to Severus… or to anyone else, for that matter. Albus Dumbledore was Severus Snape's grandfather.

Severus Snape was in truth Severus Dumbledore – another fact to simply be accepted, not dwelled upon.

Albus Dumbledore was not the saintly being he'd been taken for – the third fact, painful though it was, was no different than the ones before.

There was a prophecy which had dictated most, if not all, of Severus' life up to this point – number four – and there was only one thing to be done about this: Severus had to learn what the prophecy entailed and… see to it that it was fulfilled. To even think of doing otherwise was impossible! Not while other people's lives depended on it, as it was most likely in this time of war that many of them did!

Number five… What was number five? Severus found himself unable to think of anything else for the moment.

Making a mental list had helped to quell the chaos in his mind. Now, at least, his thoughts could fall into the correct categories. He blocked his emotions (as regarding each of these _facts_) entirely, choosing to be rational and knowing that he couldn't be while his feelings ran rampant.

Being a master Occlumens had its good points and this was one moment when Severus could truly appreciate the firm control he could exert over the whole of his mind. Occlumency wasn't all about building up shields to protect oneself from an outside attack. A person had to have the most intimate knowledge of their mind before learning the art properly and that took years to accomplish. After all, a person's weaknesses were liable to be their downfall, if someone was left unaware of them or could not control them.

Having rearranged his mind, Severus was left exhausted, but at least now he truly felt like himself again – self-possessed and reassured of his own ability.

Severus got to his feet with purpose. There were a lot of things that needed to be done.

_And no rest for the wicked._ He thought to himself, feeling an overpowering weariness of both mind and body.

He helped Minerva up and followed her from the Tower, not looking back to the wall and battlements or at the people gathered there. Rather, he looked within himself and searched for questions and answers, filing those questions he could not answer himself away to ask of the Headmaster… his grandfather. His deceased grandfather. The grandfather who'd made him his murderer. The grandfather who claimed to have only ever wanted what was best for him. The grandfather who'd used and manipulated him almost beyond human comprehension. The grandfather who claimed to love him… and whose love Severus still yearned for, but which he knew he could no longer trust. Was there any way that he could change that? He could not feed Veritaserum to a portrait, but…

Without their emotional toll, these thoughts weren't nearly as painful as they should have been.

"Did he leave any memories behind?" Severus stopped walking and looked at Minerva, who'd likewise paused beside him. There was no need to ask who 'he' was.

"Yes, he did."

"I want to see them." Severus said at once. "And I have to talk to him."

"Yell and rave at him, you mean. Maybe even tear his portrait down, I'd imagine." Minerva said seriously. Not totally convinced that she would be one to stop him, were he to do so.

"No, I'll save my hatred and anger for the Dark Lord. I'll need them more in the fight against him than in quarrelling with a portrait of… of my late grandfather." There, he'd said it. He'd said it! And, from what little emotions that still coursed through him, he could tell that he kind of liked it. A family connection. A grandfather. A family member whom he didn't have to be ashamed of – unlike his parents. Manipulative though he had been, Dumbledore had been a hero of the Grindelwald war. A courageous and intelligent leader of the Order. A perfect strategist…

"As much a Slytherin, as he was a Gryffindor." Severus snorted to himself.

"Pardon?" Minerva asked.

She'd been surprised by his answer and a little shocked by his almost casual mention of his newly-discovered connection to the late Headmaster. He was trying it out for wear, she realised, as she watched him taste it on his tongue.

Now she wasn't sure whether she'd heard him correctly.

"I said that he was as much a Slytherin as he was a Gryffindor… Perhaps even more of a Slytherin than I."

"I think the Hat knew where to place you, Severus. You're the best Slytherin Head of House that this school has seen in centuries! And no one can match you for cunning or ambition – just look how quickly you'd earned your Mastery in Potions? Or the ones in Defence and Arithmancy?"

"It makes one wonder though, considering that the Sorting Hat hadn't been decided between first Ravenclaw and then Gryffindor when I'd sat on that stool… that is, until I had told it I'd be dead, if I ended up anywhere else but my parents' House." Severus said with a smirk as he noted Minerva's horrified expression. "My godson had been faced with a similar dilemma – only the Hat had been contemplating Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw for Draco… How a **_Malfoy_** could even be considered for a House where hard **_work_** is considered one of the greatest virtues, I'll never know! That spoilt little brat had probably never _heard_ of the word prior to his coming to Hogwarts!" The man shook his dark head in disbelief and confusion… even after all this time.

Minerva didn't know whether to: 1. laugh at what he'd said; 2. check his temperature, because he had to have a fever to have said it at all! And after having spent a night outside during a terrible storm, it wouldn't be at all surprising! She knew how much he genuinely loved that boy, despite his assertions to the contrary, and she'd thought that he had a blind spot for him; 3. fall dead to floor from the shock of his considered placement… as well as Draco Malfoy's or 4. cry for the horror of what he'd just so casually revealed about himself and about Draco…

How many other students had faced such a dilemma? How much she had never known of what was going on at this school! Had Al… Had _the Headmaster_ known? Those poor children… She thought as she pictured the many Slytherins she knew came from Death Eater families or simply from traditionally Slytherin ones – such as Severus.

**_Draco_**… Another person I'd forgotten, thought Severus. Another person I care about, no matter the brat's faults…

He thought of his godson fondly. The boy was not Death Eater material and Severus was proud of him. He had so far managed to keep him safe as well as clear of any Death Eater activity that may have jeopardised the boy's thus far virtually clear conscience…

"Don't worry, Minerva. I've kept my students – who'd only been in Slytherin because of their parents – safe, thus far. Most of them have even stayed clear of Voldemort! Some weren't that lucky, but they're not in as deep as one might suppose. All of them are salvageable and only four have committed any serious crimes… I'd be more worried about the former students from the other three Houses. They don't trust me… one has to wonder why?" He muttered sardonically. "And many have lived to regret it already. Those who've had more wits about them are under my protectorate, so to speak, and are as safe as my Snakes."

Either his Legillimency was now up to par, or he'd just read her mind, like he often did, without resorting to actually looking into it. McGonagall thought.

"Are there any of mine there?" Minerva asked, hoping to hear a negative answer.

"Yes." She closed her eyes.

"How many?"

"Many."

Severus had always valued Minerva's frankness and he'd always tried to return it in kind. He rarely offered anything himself, the way he had just now, unless asked, but when she did ask, he was always honest – to the point that when he could not tell her the truth, he would usually tell her so openly, rather than formulate a story.

That he was being more talkative now could only be explained by the fact that the woman was now the only living person to whom he _could_ speak openly and to whom he _wanted_ to speak openly. Undoubtedly, she'd also taken Dumbledore's position as head of the Order of the Phoenix as well as that of Headmistress. She wasn't just a friend now, she was his superior and she would need to know more about him and understand him better than before because she would be his strongest link within the Order. It would be up to her to make the decisions that decided the fate of others, so the more information she possessed – the better-informed and wiser choices she would be able to make.

McGonagall would need to learn how the Death Eaters thought and what motivated them. There was a lot of information he'd have to pass on to her… It shouldn't have been his duty, but with Dumbledore's portrait having been conveniently 'asleep' and unable to answer to anyone's questions for months, and also considering last night's _'spectacle'_ (he shuddered at the memory of his almost complete lack of control at that time and at the now resurfacing memory of all the people who'd witnessed it, as well as learned so much about him) – which couldn't have endeared the old warlock to a person of Minerva's high moral principles – he was the only person who could, now.

A tear rolled over Minerva's old cheek. He laid his hand on her shoulder in sympathy.

"I've failed them."

"No more than I have my own."

"But your students have been driven away by all of us… You had only yourself to rely on to help them… The others…"

"Chose what they wanted. No one could do that for them." Severus said firmly. "I may have been driven to Voldemort, pushed and manipulated, but, ultimately, it had been my _choice_, no matter how ill-fated – and _fated_ it apparently _had_ been – or how stupid it had been. It was mine and mine alone. No one can take that from me. It had been just as much my own choice to turn from him. Both choices – my own. I will _blame_ no one and will allow no one to _take the_ _credit_ for either of them." His tone brooked no argument, enforced as it was by the hard, unyielding look in his eyes.

Who was this man, who had the strength to take so much upon himself and remain standing – tall and proud, as he was now? That dignity was back – a cloak that was so much a part of him, that she'd barely recognised him without it!

"And when it comes to House placement – I've always thought it was fairly ridiculous. Not to go back too far, Cedric Diggory had had all the bravery of a Gryffindor, your Miss Granger has all the intelligence and thirst for knowledge of a Ravenclaw, my own Kathleen _Macnair_," he emphasised the surname of the known Death Eater's youngest offspring "has all the gentleness and fierce loyalty to her friends worthy of a Hufflepuff and Mr Potter – a Slytherin, according to the Hat, but also unquestionably a Gryffindor, since he'd been able to pull Godric's old sword out of the Sorting Hat, as only a true Gryffindor could. And me? Need we even start?" He smirked. "I've grown into my House and could see myself in no other. An old man once told me that it is our choices that define us, more than anything else. I would never have been able to talk to Salazar's portrait, if I wasn't a true Slytherin."

She recognised Dumbledore's oft-spoken words about choices and smiled before she back-pedalled.

"Mr Potter… What…?"

"Al… The Head… My grandfather had never told you, had he? Well, it's not my story to tell. Ask Mr Potter." He grinned, not smirked – grinned. Something strange happened to his dark eyes… they were… they couldn't be… they were _twinkling_… not as absurdly as Dumbledore's had been, but glittering with amusement as he teased her nonetheless.

"I will do just that!" She huffed. "Infuriating man!" She scowled and Severus laughed.

"Now we come to the reason why you've missed me while I was gone! You couldn't survive without someone to keep you on your toes… and to make sure your circulation was in good order, especially after those Stunners to the heart, two years back." He smiled sweetly, all innocence and good will. Something none of the Order members had thought Snape's face was capable of expressing… But Minerva, having known Severus as a student, had always known better. "We can't risk you having a heart attack during the war… no, not at all, Minerva."

"Why you…!" She glared at him, seething with anger at the jibe at her age, rising to the bait, knowing full well what it was, but after having been deprived of his company for so long, unable to help herself and wishing to indulge herself.

"You have to face the truth of your age sometime, Minerva!" He chuckled, eyes glittering like a starry sky at midnight.

She couldn't uphold her angry demeanour, not in the face of that expression on his face – so beautiful for its rarity… She smiled at him fondly, saying affectionately:

"I really _have_ missed your ever-engaging, ever-_annoying_ company." Then she remembered something he'd said. It was her turn to tease and she challenged him. "Kathleen Macnair is no longer yours, Severus. You've finally left your loathed teaching position behind."

"It was Hogwarts that I truly loathed, not the teaching itself… _not as much_ that is. And my Snakes are just that, Minerva – mine." Severus disagreed. "Anyone may _think_ to claim them, even the Dark Lord. When push comes to shove, he'll realise his mistake, because it's me they're truly loyal to. Just as I have always been loyal to them. Nothing's going to change that and especially not something as trivial as my removal from Hogwarts." He said confidently.

"You lied when you said that Lily and Albus were the only people you'd ever really loved, Severus." Minerva said quietly. "You love all those children too, even those who aren't children anymore and those who probably do not deserve it." She smiled. She then turned to look at him solemnly. "If they show you at least part of your loyalty to them, then I can understand your confidence." Then she turned thoughtful. "'Crumble from inside'."

"What?" He frowned.

"The prophecy. Your prophecy." She explained.

"I really do have to talk to that portrait as soon as possible." Severus muttered, more to himself than the Headmistress. "And I want to see those memories… my grandfather left." Again, he stumbled, but he didn't want to call the man anything else… He took a moment to examine his feelings regarding the matter, careful not to let them run out of his control.

Somehow, calling Dumbledore that brought him as much consolation as it did pain.

_My grandfather_

Who would have thought that two simple words could have such a unique, profoundly bittersweet taste to them…

* * *

Severus decided to view the memories that same day, in the evening, after he got some rest that Minerva had bullied him into.

The former Professor was glad that the school had just been shut down due to a recent attack on Hogsmeade, because there were no students around and he could walk the corridors freely… or as freely as he dared with a whole group of people staying at the castle – all of which he had no desire to see at the moment, especially considering the many questions that were still unanswered for him. Maybe he'd feel otherwise once he'd seen what Dumbledore had left for him to see and once he'd questioned the deceased wizard…

He had yet to face any of the Order members at all, as they had avoided an open confrontation and he hadn't been feeling up to seeking one himself, despite the fact that they'd followed him and McGonagall when the witch had escorted him from the Astronomy Tower.

Severus had caught a glimpse of an emotion he abhorred on several of those faces.

HE WOULD NOT BE **_PITIED_**!!!

Not by them, not by anyone!

Molly and Arthur Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks could very well forget it! They could very well shove their unwanted emotions up their collective but respective…

Propriety made him finish his inward rant at that…

Or perhaps it wasn't really propriety but the very much unwanted images that that line of thought had brought to the forefront of his mind. He really did NOT want to examine the intimate relationships of any of the Order members, those members in particular...

**TBC…**

**A/N**

**If you've made it this far, please do let me know and maybe even share your thoughts, if you're feeling particularly generous ;)**

**Next chapter: Memories (the title says it all)**

18


	3. Memories

**Disclaimer:**** Nope, not mine, sorry! ;P**

**A/N**

**Wow, who'd have thought, I'm actually updating – and so soon?!?!?! Sometimes I amaze even myself!... Oops, wrong story – that's a Star Wars line! ;P**

**Thank you to everyone who's read the previous chapters and a triple thank you to those who'd reviewed the last one: **,oo,,,

excessivelyperky (Yeah, I'll be getting back to Harry in the next chapter, unless I decide to put too much in it and have to move that part to the one after that. ;) I do wonder, though, seeing as Snape is my favourite character – why do I sooo love putting him through hell whenever I can? And enjoy reading about him being put through hell? cough…**The Birthday Present**…cough…one of my current favourites…cough;) What does it say about me, I wonder?? It's just a thought…;)),

LadyRavena (Hey, have you seen the TV series: Stargate SG-1? If you do know it, then the Goa'uld Ba'al should mean something to you. He's exactly the kind of guy who can be surrounded by enemies with guns/staff weapons pointed at him and just give them a superior smirk for all their effort. That's kind of how I like to see Severus. Sorry about all that rambling, but Stargate is another of my favourites – along with HP, LOTR, SW, ST and some others),

Iva1201 (Hey, don't thank _me_, I can't help it if I prefer it when Minerva and Severus get along – after all, they're Hogwarts' sternest and most feared Professors, and therefore have a lot in common… Then there's the fact that our favourite dark Slytherin is in desperate need of some mothering and who better for the job than a Gryffindor Professor who's not known for her warmth or mollycoddling?;)),

Emu (I wouldn't mind some more grammar-error-location – thanks a lot, it's hard to spot them, even when rereading, probably because I tend to unconsciously skip through the actual 'reading' as I remember most of the text after I'd written it – that's where a beta should come in… or just a kind soul, like you. Thanks again. ;) As for angst, well, it's not like Severus has recovered yet… pushing everything to the back of your mind is hardly coping…the jury is still out on that one. dum dum dum scary music playing in the background:) Maybe I should take votes on that one? I've been planning to have some long-term effects, but I've also been playing with the idea of a serious breakdown in the very near future. What do you think?;))

**I hope someone will be kind enough to review this chapter as well, even though I don't think it's any good, really ;(**

**A/N 2 for this revised version (30.03.2007)**

**This chapter has been revised: I had to switch two memories thanks to **Iva1201** who pointed out that I'd made a mistake with the timeline. Thank you! I've also added some new memories and a line here and there.:)**

**As for an indication that the memories are being viewed, well, I thought that the title and the last lines of the previous chapter had made that clear enough. What's important are the memories themselves anyway, since there's no reaction to them within this chapter. Those lines near the end about Snape remembering his thoughts as he views the memories – they merely illustrate what Severus had been thinking at that moment in time (to give a clearer understanding of his strange 'either-neither-essentially both' response) and I couldn't have done that without having him there to give his perspective. These are Albus' memories after all.:)**

**11.05.2007**

**I decided to take some weight off one of the memories, as per **Emu**'s helpful suggestion. Thank you very much – I hope for more of your insightful comments and advice. ;)**

**I also added bits and pieces here and there (especially in the last memory) after re-reading the story to get some bearings for the next chapters, but it's nothing major and probably not worth the bother of reading. :)**

**Just because it's been **_re_**posted doesn't mean I don't appreciate feedback! Please! ;)**

**Chapter III**

**Memories**

"'I see wars, horrible wars, and the Tiber foaming with much blood.'" Dumbledore quoted softly – a whisper barely audible over the wind.

"_Aeneid_, Virgil." Snape murmured, surprising Albus because he hadn't thought he could have heard him, but certainly not surprising him with his familiarity with the quote. Books and Severus had always seemed to be drawn together and the young man had a remarkable memory for everything he read. The pair of them had spent many a day exchanging quotes by way of conversation or simply inserting some every once in a while – each seeing it as a challenge to find a suitable quote that the other would be unfamiliar with. Nowadays, the occasional challenge was a rarity – as were most other forms of amusement in this time of war for all of those involved. If a quote slipped out, it was more out of force of habit than anything else. Just like now. "You should try to concentrate on our goal, not the sacrifices that will be necessary to attain it. I don't think the wizarding world can afford to have your judgement clouded at the moment."

How could the young man know his thoughts and heart so well? How could he know that he'd been questioning himself and his decisions and that those doubts of his were eating away at him? How did he know that it was no simple matter of grieving for Sirius and the others that were sure to follow – that it ran deeper than that?

The fact that he _**did**_ as well as the truth of his words caused Albus' thoughts to change direction.

"You need a haircut, Severus." Albus commented after a while as he and his Potions Master were standing on top of one of Hogwarts' towers, watching the Hogwarts' Express as it departed from the station in Hogsmeade in the far distance. The man's dark hair was flapping wildly in the strong wind and hid most of his face. The sudden statement and its content came as a surprise to Dumbledore himself. Where had something so inconsequential come from, exactly? He wondered.

"If I need a haircut, then you need one _most desperately_." Snape said, looking meaningfully at the long, silver hair tucked into Albus' belt, taking the sudden shift in stride. Albus almost smiled at that – Severus wasn't a good spy for nothing. "Not to mention a good shave. Have you ever heard of such miraculous inventions as scissors and a razor? If you can't manage the spells, those are easy enough to handle."

"I would lose my look of infinite wisdom and omnipotence!" Albus exclaimed with mock horror, but something in his eyes shifted and the twinkle died causing him to turn away. He'd just been reminded of what his wisdom and omnipotence could lead to, after all… the Ministry raid, Sirius' death, the prophecy… both of them, that is…

"And I would lose my Greasy Git look if I cut mine, which is exactly what I've been aiming for." Severus responded, earning a small smile from the Headmaster, but the expression didn't last under the onslaught of guilt and sadness. Surprisingly enough, Snape seemed to have picked up on the old man's change of mood even though he couldn't have seen his face. At length, he laid a hand on the man's shoulder, even though he usually avoided physical contact like the plague, and he spoke softly but firmly. "This was no more your fault than anyone else's, Albus. Black should have listened to me when I'd told him to stay put. Potter and company shouldn't have gone on that crazy rescue mission of theirs. Someone should have paid more attention to Kreacher and his obvious lack of loyalty to Black. Potter should have at least _tried_ to learn Occlumency. I should have found another way to teach him – one that wouldn't have meant endangering both our lives. I should have gone after him straight away, instead of arguing with Black – that way, once I'd contacted Black, I could have told him that the brat was safe and he wouldn't have rushed to the rescue. Or I should have contacted you before turning to Black – that way, you could have been the one to talk to him and I would have been free to intercept Potter before he left." Snape sighed, taking his hand away. "If anything, this is more _my_ fault than anyone else's!" He concluded bitterly.

"This wasn't your fault, Severus!" Albus turned to him sharply.

"Of course not!" Snape snorted. "You keep telling me the same thing when it comes to Lily and Potter's deaths, too, and we both know that it's a lie. The moment the first words of the prophecy had spilled from my lips, I as good as signed their death sentence… as well as a sentence on Alice and Frank. Bellatrix wouldn't have gone after them, certainly not with such viciousness, if she hadn't known that the Dark Lord had wanted them dead at some point – even if he had turned on the Potters in the end."

"If anyone is to bear the responsibility and blame for that, then it should be _me_, Severus! You were acting on _my orders_, much as you have been this past year!"

"Then how come I am the one who can barely look their children in the eye without being overwhelmed by guilt?!" Snape said angrily. Albus recognised the look in Severus' dark eyes – his anger was directed inward, at himself, not Albus. But even so, it was powerful enough that it had left a chink in his armour – one big enough that he'd admitted something he never openly had before.

Their conversation had strayed – this wasn't just about Black or apportioning blame – this was once again about the many questionable choices and orders Albus had made and given – the many questionable choices Severus had made in his own life and the many questionable orders he'd followed… Yet Albus knew that now was not the time to question, not when many more difficult choices and even more difficult actions no doubt lay ahead. Severus had reminded him that just moments before... Why couldn't he take his own advice and apply it to himself? He was _at least_ as important in this war as Dumbledore… But then Albus knew that Severus couldn't disagree with him more on this subject – the man considered himself an expendable tool.

Albus looked at the young man at his side. So young – so tired and weighed down by a complicated past and an uncertain, hopeless future.

Those old wounds ran deep and they'd never needed a great deal of pressure to reopen. The pain and guilt the man felt were always close to the surface for those who knew what to look for and Albus was probably the only person alive who did.

Sirius Black's death – despite the very real and deep-rooted hatred that Severus had always harboured for the Animagus (which had been quite mutual) – was another death, another failure that Severus would claim full responsibility for. There was no doubt in Dumbledore's mind that his young Potions Master genuinely felt that he _could_ and _**should**_ have prevented Sirius' death… somehow. That he'd done all in his power to do so and that it was only in hindsight that any errors in judgement could be discovered was immaterial.

Albus sighed softly. It would be another heavy weight for Severus to carry and there was nothing Albus could do to change this. He should have known that, while the blame lay with him, Severus would find a way to shift it onto himself. He always did. It would be up to Albus now to keep him from dwelling on it – letting his own demons rest without fighting them, in favour of helping Severus get over his. Not that the proud man would ever accept anyone's help. Albus would just have to be there, be his constant no matter what happened, and make new demands so that the man wouldn't have the time to think of anything but the present and the future – it was the only role he could play and the only aid he could give, despite the friendship they'd developed over the years. That friendship was still too fragile, Severus' trust too tenuous…

And how terribly misplaced it was…

Severus shouldn't trust him – not after the web of lies Albus had woven around him. But then, there was no way for Severus to know that. Dumbledore tried to tell himself that the only reason why he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him as he thought of his grandson's ignorance was the prophecy and its importance. Deep down, he knew that he couldn't bear the mere thought of losing what closer relationship he had with Severus – but it was a truth which he could not at the moment allow himself to openly acknowledge, lest he be driven to forget what important role his grandson had yet to play in this war and try to protect him from that unknown, dangerous destiny.

SSS

"Severus!" Albus called as he staggered into the Potions Master's quarters. The young man emerged hurriedly from his bedroom, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers, a white vest and quickly pulling on a black robe. He waved his hand and candles lit themselves around the room. He then looked at the Headmaster, his dark eyes quick and sharp as they roamed over the weak, ancient wizard's form… The gaze froze on the blackened hand that hung limply at the old man's side.

Hardly any words were spoken as Snape took immediate control over the situation. He cast a Diagnostic Spell on the Headmaster's hand and paled upon seeing the results.

"Take off your robes and lie down in my bed."

"Severus…"

"Don't worry." Severus reassured. "I will be back in a moment."

After what seemed like hours but must have been merely one and a half, if the clock on the wall was any indication, Severus reappeared in his bedroom, wearing his customary, black working robes. The old Headmaster had done exactly as he'd been told and was now lying in the Potions Master's bed.

Snape strode over to the dozing warlock and shook his shoulder gently – careful not to disturb his hand and shoulder on his injured side.

"Sseverrrusss…?" Albus murmured groggily, a look of love and affection on his face as he recognised his young protégé's voice and features.

"Drink this. It will take the edge off the pain." Came the quiet instruction. Again, Albus complied without question.

The relief he felt wasn't complete, but it was enough.

"Thank you, child." He sighed, eyes drifting closed. "What would I have done without you?" He was answered with a snort.

"This isn't over yet. You've done a good job of slowing down the curse's progress by yourself, but that's only temporary. That potion was just a pain-killer – a highly complex one, mind you – but now I will have to see what can be done about actually _healing_ you."

"I don't think that will be possible, Severus. I am content to just die without too much pain and in the company of a dear friend…"

"Oh no you don't! You're not giving up that easily!" Snape didn't allow him to finish. "In case you've forgotten, I am **the Half-Blood Prince** – not just your average former student!" Snape said that last part in an absurdly arrogant tone, tilting his head haughtily in a perfect imitation of Lucius Malfoy. Dumbledore laughed out loud at that, but then it transformed into a hiss of pain.

A gentle hand stroked his sweaty forehead, using a wet cloth to wipe away the moisture. Blue eyes opened after a moment.

"Don't make me laugh, child." Albus implored with a smile, but there was still pain in his eyes.

"Don't make me." Came the sharp retort. Then a teasing, considering expression took over Snape's pale face even as he pulled a fresh phial from his robe pocket. "So, do you think I could give Malfoy a run for his money?"

"The son, yes. Lucius, never, my boy. Even with your acting skills, I don't think you could match him for arrogance." Dumbledore smiled wider, a look of pride in his eyes as he watched the wizard making notes on a piece of parchment and casting a spell on his blackened hand. For the moment he made himself forget the pain he was feeling and concentrated solely on the young man before him.

"Pity, I thought I came close with that one."

"Sorry to disappoint." Albus was amused, if a little surprised, that they were actually having this somewhat inane conversation. Severus was doing a good job of distracting him, though. How he managed that without getting distracted himself was anyone's guess. It was probably because he was so used to multitasking, as overworked as the young man was, especially since Voldemort's return.

Snape gave him a half-smile, but it was obvious that only a small part of his attention was on the conversation. And it was thus that the content of his next words came as an even greater surprise.

"He never got it. None of them ever did." He muttered absently, but with an air of amusement and wistfulness.

"Got what?"

"That old nickname. My housemates, and no doubt you as well, thought it was a way to play up the pure-blood part of my lineage."

"And it wasn't?" Asked a surprised Albus. Severus threw him a satisfied smirk.

"No, it was actually a dig at that heap of _blood-purity in Slytherin_ crap my housemates and many others kept spouting." His smirk turned into a wistful smile and his gaze turned inward – to a memory from years before. "Only Lily had understood it at once. Madam Pince threw us out of the library, we were making so much racket, laughing as we were, when I first signed my books with that name."

Severus measured a few drops of the potion from the phial into a half-filled glass of wine he'd wandlessly poured and floated to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Here. Drink what's in the glass."

"What is it?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"With my life and more… but I'm allowed to be _curious_. There is no cure for the spell I've been hit with." Albus didn't wait for a reply and drained the glass. What he'd said was true – he did trust Severus – and if the man needed proof, well, he had no objection to giving him as much as he desired.

"No _known_ one, but that isn't to say that there _isn't_ one."

"Always up for a challenge?" Albus teased, feeling suddenly light-headed. The potion was already taking some effect… whatever its full effect was supposed to be.

"Always." Severus agreed. "So, care to tell me what happened?" He asked, even as he proceeded to chant a complex incantation in a not commonly known, melodious language, his wand and other hand moving in accord to form a complex pattern. A frown of concentration creased his high, intelligent forehead.

When Dumbledore made no answer, he flicked his gaze to the old wizard's face and when he saw that the man's eyes were closed he spoke the incantation more hurriedly, but still as precisely and the moment he finished, he gently shook the wizard's shoulder.

"You were just saying, Albus, about this latest little adventure…?" Severus said, running a Diagnostic Spell over Dumbledore's blackened hand once again.

"I…I was?" Albus murmured groggily.

"Yes." Snape frowned and made some calculations on a fresh piece of parchment. The speed with which he created and tackled the Arithmantic problems was astounding, as was the fact that he didn't seem to require a chart with the number values of the ingredients or spells he worked into them. True, he _was_ a Potions Master and a Master of Arithmancy, nonetheless, he was still young and some things came with years of experience.

"I tried to destroy the ring… Marvolo's ring…" Albus said in a barely audible voice.

Whether Snape had actually registered the man's words, was unclear, he did continue making encouraging gestures whenever Albus grew silent, but he never stopped what he was doing. At one moment, he'd become so engrossed in his calculations that when he finally realised that Dumbledore was no longer speaking, he had trouble rousing him.

"What did you think of my new lesson plans for this year?"

"Lesson plans? You've… When have you given me any new lesson plans in the past few years? You haven't changed anything since you started teaching!"

"No, I haven't and I haven't given you any lesson plans at all this year. I was just making sure that you're still with me." Snape measured a few more drops of the previous potion and poured them into the refilled wine glass, bringing it to the terribly weakened Headmaster's lips. "Drink it. In this dosage, it will help you sleep through this."

"Severus, I need to tell you something…" Albus whispered, some lucidity returning to his blue eyes. "That's why I came here… I…"

"Sh…" Severus silenced him, laying a finger on his lips, when the man grew more anxious. "We'll talk when you get better. Then you can tell me whatever it is you deem so important." With surprising gentleness and affection, Snape lifted his head and brought the glass to his lips, but again, Dumbledore refused, albeit weakly.

"There's no cure…"

"I'll find one! All you have to do now is sleep. You will need all your strength when you wake up."

"But…"

"Is it about the war?"

"No…"

"Then it doesn't matter."

"I've lied to you…"

"Not for the first time, I'm sure." Severus said ruefully, but without reproach or any trace of anger. "It doesn't matter. What's important is getting you healed." He said with determination, his face a blank mask as he was in full Potions Master mode.

"Severus… I…" Albus tried to protest, but stopped. "All right, but one thing you have to know, I hope you know that already…" He trailed off, voice weakening even further.

"And that would be? You have to drink the rest of the potion _**now**_, Albus!" Severus said impatiently, worry and distress for the Headmaster's health ruling over any other emotions that flitted across his face.

"I love you, my boy. Like a son… or… _grandson_." Albus told him, finding some left-over strength to keep his eyes open long enough to bore into Severus'. "I just… I just want you to know and… believe that that has… always been true… for longer than you may imagine…"

Severus' eyes widened in surprise and he obviously couldn't help but stare for a moment at the ancient, wise face, which now looked far older than anyone had ever seen it. Dumbledore looked the age he was and that was certainly not a sight that offered comfort.

Visibly shaking himself, Severus returned to the task at hand, pouring the wine and potion into Dumbledore's mouth and easing his head back onto the pillows with surprising gentleness. After Albus' eyes had drifted closed, the young, raven-haired wizard leaned over him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek and whispering, clearly to himself and not the wizard he believed to be asleep.

"I love you too… You've been more of a father to me than my own… which wouldn't really be saying much, but… but it is, at least to me. It's even more important to me that you seem to genuinely care, too. I have no idea why you would, but I'm starting to actually believe you about that… That's why I'm not going to let you die, Albus!" He said firmly, straightening. "I don't need an Unbreakable Vow or bond of Dark Magic to keep that promise." With a swirl of black robes, he turned on his heel and left his bedroom, pausing only to cast a few Protection Charms and a spell that would alert him if the man's condition worsened.

Flashes of images followed, merging into each other.

Visions of a feverish Dumbledore and an ever-vigilant Snape, always at his side, using potions and magic to aid the failing wizard… Nightmares and hallucinations… Severus always there – patient and caring – as he helped Albus tell reality from illusion… Piles of books and papers lay scattered in the whole chamber… Visions of Snape reading and writing… performing complex spells and bringing ever new potions…

It was impossible to say how long it lasted, but the flow of images finally slowed until it became a distinct memory again.

Dumbledore lay on the large four-poster he'd been occupying all the while, but the sheets had been changed… several times, if the vague images were any indication… his arm was bandaged from shoulder to fingers. His face was as white as his beard and sheets.

A dark shape lay partly across the bed, clashing with the white sheets and partly sat on a wooden chair.

"Severus…?" A weak, unrecognisable voice croaked… apparently having come from the Headmaster's parched lips, as they were open, just as his sky-blue eyes… only the twinkle was gone from those blue orbs… and it seemed as though life had fled from the man's voice…

The black mass shifted to reveal itself as a human being.

Snape lifted his head almost immediately, eyes clearing from their sleepy haze as they encountered a pair of familiar blue ones, which did not shine with fever for the first time in what had to feel like for ever. Severus sat up straight in an instant, consulting his watch and blinking away sleep as he got up from his chair and summoned a glass and a jug of clear, cool water.

He brought it to the older man's parched lips and he accepted it gratefully – thirsty beyond belief. Severus didn't allow him much, taking the glass away before he could drink more than his body could handle.

Blue eyes longingly followed the floating glass as it made its progress to sit on the table, next to the still nearly full jug…

"You wouldn't want to overdo it. It'll still be there in a few moments." Severus said, a smile finding its way into his unusually tired and quiet voice.

Albus smiled almost sheepishly, but his smile turned to worry as he took in the outrageous state of the other man.

Unshaven, hair standing on end, dark circles under blood-shot eyes, skin as pale as death… Snape didn't look any better than Albus himself.

"Are you all right?" Then the fact that he was alive at all seemed to penetrate his befuddled brain. "How did you manage to…?" Albus trailed off, amazement and pride flickering on his ancient face as he looked at the exhausted man before him. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday. You've been here for the better part of a week." Severus said as he attempted to tame his wild hair somewhat and tried to stifle a yawn. "As to the how… Would you mind if I waited with the full explanation?" He stretched his arms and yawned again – what little sleep he'd managed to catch had done him little good considering the fact that he hadn't slept in days, and the awkward position he'd been in had apparently merely added cramped muscles to his body's general discomfort.

"Not if you use that time to take care of yourself and get some sleep, child." Albus smiled affectionately at the tall, raven-haired man. His eyes shone with warmth and gratitude, laced with genuine concern and underlined by the disbelief he couldn't quite get over. "You've saved my life, Severus. Thank you."

"It's what anyone would have done in my position." The Slytherin shrugged his shoulders indifferently, effectively shaking off the compliment and gratitude that were justly his due. "Besides, I may have saved your life, but not your hand…" He trailed off.

"I believe I can very well live without it, Severus, just as long as I can live at all. What you've accomplished I'd have believed impossible, were I not here to witness the results of your work. I believe I can manage very well one-handed… it is more than I could have hoped for, anyway."

"You won't have to. It isn't that bad, exactly."

"Pardon?"

"I said I couldn't _save_ your hand, but I only meant that I couldn't reverse the burning process the Dark magic from the curse had started. It was a variation of the Incendio. I managed to stop it before it reached further than your wrist, but it will remain blackened and probably not as nimble as it had been, I'm afraid. You will be able to use it, though. Especially once I develop a potion to ease the stiffness." He tried to hide another yawn.

"Before you do anything in the next few days, Severus, you will need to get some proper rest." Albus looked the man up and down meaningfully. "You know, on a somewhat different note, I do believe I am well on my way to believing that there is nothing _you_ could _not_ accomplish, if you put your mind to it, Severus."

"Well, I always _have_ told my fresh batches of morons that I can brew glory, bottle fame and put a stopper in death and that I can teach them that. Did you think I've been lying to them by taking words in vain?" A dark eyebrow rose in challenge. His 'fresh batches of morons' comment earned him a half-heartedly reproachful glance from the Headmaster, before Albus lost the battle and his amusement won out, manifesting itself in a weak chuckle.

SSS

"What are your plans for the holidays? Will you be leaving?" Albus asked of his friend as they were walking across the school grounds. The old warlock looked tired and it was to his credit that Snape seemed to be moderating his normally long, brisk strides so that they would better accommodate his companion.

"Not for Prince Manor, unfortunately. I have potions to brew and I wouldn't want that estate's existence to become known to _some people_. I'll go to Spinner's End. Merlin do I _loathe_ that place! I won't be sorry at all if one of my experiments goes wrong and blows up the whole house."

"In that case, might I suggest that you leave your more valuable books either at Hogwarts or at Prince Manor – even if you do believe you might have need of them? They'll be a lot safer."

"Are you implying that not _all_ books are _invaluable_? I will have to tell Madam Pince on you, Albus!" Severus chuckled softly and Dumbledore joined in the teasing by putting on a look of mock fear before following suit and laughing heartily. "Now that I consider it, do you think I might be able to persuade Mr Longbottom to be my assistant for the summer? He could make quick work of the house, with minimum costs of ingredients, as he can explode the most mundane of potions."

"I don't think any amount of gold or anything at all could persuade Neville to spend any amount of time in close proximity to you, Severus." Albus chuckled. "Not beyond what he already has to, sitting in the Great Hall and living in the same castle as you."

"So much for Gryffindor bravery." Severus snorted, earning himself a glare.

"But honestly, he cannot possibly be that bad, Severus? There've been no overly serious casualties in that class, just like there haven't been in any others."

"That's only due to Miss Know-It-All Granger and my own quick reactions, Albus, I assure you. Still, I do feel the boy has some untapped talents in the development of potentially useful potions – considering the war, that is. Just think: The Exploding Healing Balm or The Skin-Melting Burn Solution. It has potential, surely."

His serious and considering tone, as well as the preposterous ideas, made the Headmaster laugh once more.

The laughter, combined with their currently walking uphill, caused Albus to be out of breath and Severus suggested they sit on the grass and rest. His_ suggestion_ was met with vehement protests.

To no avail.

"You know, you never struck me as the mother-hen type of person, Severus. I suppose I should have known better than to believe in appearances, considering how all your students, especially the youngsters, adore you _to tears_!" Albus groused once Snape had forced him to sit down and once he'd evened out his breathing sufficiently enough to speak clearly.

"I will not deign that comment with a reply, Headmaster. Suffice to say, I am as good as your personal healer for the moment," then he grumbled under his breath, "much to my misfortune," before continuing, "and as a patient, you should follow my instructions until you are fully recovered…" Snape turned to look at the sky overhead. "God, what a lost cause _**that**_ has to be – even more so than getting _Longbottom_ to follow his Potions instructions properly!"

Albus glared at the side of the young man's head at the implications of that statement. In this moment there was a strong resemblance between the two, but it was only fleeting. They sat in silence and Albus had to grudgingly admit, if only to himself, that it felt good to be sitting down.

"The Dark Lord may have taken me back into his confidence, but he is still far from trusting me, you know." Severus spoke out of the blue.

"How so? I thought you were considered to be one of his most trusted advisors?"

"One of his _closest _advisors – that doesn't necessarily mean _most trusted_." Albus' eyes asked the question for him and Snape had apparently taken note of it, because he proceeded to elaborate. "You know what they say: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? I'm fairly certain that I don't fall into that first category, as I've never given him any reason to trust me more than anyone else… less so, even, if I think about it. He's sending Wormtail with me to act as assistant when I'll be making those potions for him. He's going to be no help whatsoever, but I can trust him to **rat** on me if I so much as breathe the wrong way." He said with disgust. "Oh and the pun was wholly intended." Severus added with a smirk, his sour expression lightening by only a fraction.

"You'll have to be very careful then. You should try and be nice to him."

"Now THAT would definitely classify as _breathing the wrong way_! I am expected to treat him as the filthy rodent that he is, and frankly, that's my only consolation in this situation. At least I won't need the house-elves around the house. I'll send them to Prince Manor on an extended holiday for the duration of our stay at Spinner's End." Albus tried to look stern and disapproving, but couldn't quite manage it convincingly enough. To justify himself and fend off any attempts at reproach, Snape said: "You have no idea how much I have to restrain myself from wringing his nearly non-existent neck every time I see him! This is going to be one looong summer!"

SSS

A dishevelled and distressed-looking Severus barged into the Headmaster's office, black robes billowing behind him like wings…

"Albus." He acknowledged, once he'd thrown himself into a large armchair, leant back and closed his eyes, taking the opportunity to even out his breathing.

"Severus, my boy." Dumbledore returned by way of greeting, his blue eyes looking at the young wizard with a mixture of relief – at having him back safe and sound, and concern – for he seemed anything _but_ all right… even if his outward appearance didn't show any signs of fresh injuries. "Lemon drop?" At length, Albus tried to assess the situation and draw the man out.

As expected, black eyes flew open, a ready glare locking on Albus' face without fail. Which feat never ceased to amaze Albus.

Severus didn't even bother with a reply. He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself, and opened his mouth to speak, but Albus beat him to it.

"Tea?" Albus tried again – he had the _'senile old man'_ act down to an art.

"I am willing to accept the DADA position this year," Severus said on a long exhale and shook his dark head slightly in exasperation, "as I don't think I have any hope of seeing the next anyway… cursed position or not."

Albus drew in a sharp breath, a feeling of dread spread through him. All traces of the previous twinkling fled from his sapphire eyes.

"What happened?" He tried to hide his anxiety behind this single question and a composed demeanour. Albus waved his good hand and a pot of tea, along with a cup for each of them, materialised on the desk. At least it gave him something to occupy himself with and was sure to provide the same for Severus' restless hands.

"Does this mean you no longer want me to teach the little brats how to defend themselves properly?" Severus asked ironically as he picked up the freshly poured tea and took a sip. "How's your hand, by the way? I had to mention your injury to the Dark Lord and by now everyone surely knows. And if they don't, they soon will."

"My hand is good and it was to be expected that the news would spread quickly. As long as no one knows of the source of my injury or your role in healing me, everything is under control. As for you teaching DADA, of course I want you to teach! What I don't want is to place you in a dangerous position."

"Because I'm so safe now…" Severus said sarcastically. He placed his teacup back on the desk. "Anyway, you should have thought about that before you asked me to resume my position as spy, as it is, my life is at constant risk, so, if we could get back to the problem at hand?"

Albus flinched at the words, but said nothing, masking the pain in his eyes with his customary twinkle.

It was true – if Hogwarts could provide sanctuary for Harry Potter, then surely it could have provided the same for Severus. Severus was angry and was taking some of it out on Albus now, because they both knew that while he may have _asked_ it of Severus, he hadn't _made_ the choice for him… Well, not that he would have _let_ him quit his position as spy, had Severus not made the right choice on his own, but Severus didn't necessarily know that… did he? It wasn't as though the man was aware of the prophecy pertaining to him.

"What happened then, to make you accept a position you'd flat out refused in the past? I'd even come to believe that Hogwarts had grown on you and that you hadn't wanted to risk having to leave it, due to Voldemort's curse on the DADA teacher's position."

"Hardly…" Snape grimaced rather eloquently. "You wouldn't have let me leave in any case." Snape snorted. "And if you'd hired someone else to teach Potions, I dared not think what new job you might have come up with for me… An aide to Filch, perhaps? Just so long as I remained where you could keep an eye on me."

Perhaps baiting Severus hadn't been the right approach.

"I would have found far better uses for your multiple talents, my dear boy, and I do not need to keep an eye on you – most certainly not for the reasons you think: _I trust you implicitly._" The Headmaster stressed the last part so that Snape would understand that he meant it. "I also consider you a dear friend, child, and you cannot blame an old man for wanting to keep those he cares about near him, can you?"

Severus shifted uncomfortably under the sincerity of those words and cleared his throat, getting down to business, as Albus had known he unfailingly would.

"Bellatrix and Narcissa came to Spinner's End. Narcissa wanted my help and Lestrange… well, she'd just wanted to stop her sister and since she'd been unsuccessful, she'd been quite content with sharing her opinion of me." Albus had the decency to grimace in sympathy. "Narcissa wanted me to help Draco with a mission." Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his overlarge nose. "I didn't know what Draco's mission was, so I decided to pretend that I did, hoping that one of them might slip and say something…"

Albus waited patiently.

"Narcissa then asked me to make the Unbreakable Vow and promise to protect, aid and, if need be, take Draco's place in fulfilling his mission." Black eyes met blue and the silence stretched.

"Do you know what the mission is now?"

"I do not." Severus continued to meet his eyes directly with very troubled dark ones.

"I see…" Murmured an equally troubled Headmaster and stroked his beard thoughtfully.

SSS

"Well, at least _someone_'s pleased with my new teaching post!" Severus announced from the doorway.

"That's definitely good news to hear, Severus."

"I wouldn't be so sure. He's absurdly pleased and sees it as proof of just how much you trust me. Because of that, he didn't even really punish me for that whole affair with Narcissa and the Vow. The Dark Lord asked me to stay behind – just him, Nagini and me – and warned me that while he understood my concern and willingness to help my godson, he could not condone my actions. A short bout of Crucio and he dismissed me with nothing but that disgusting grimace that passes for a smile for him. From what I understand, only the two of us know that I'd made the Vow without knowing what it was binding me to do. He didn't let on that I shouldn't have known about Draco's mission when Bellatrix reported the Vow to him. The Dark Lord found it amusing and decided that I should find out for myself." Severus said with a slight annoyance that seemed incongruous with the situation – apparently forgetting that his very life was at stake here, or more likely not caring that it was the case. The fact that he'd so casually mentioned being put under the Cruciatus Curse was nothing new to Albus. He knew that while Snape may have claimed it had been only for a short time, the reality of it was bound to have been different. The man was simply used to the torture and was too proud to ever admit to weakness or pain. "He thinks I've finally earned your full trust." Snape said ironically, shaking off the previous frustration.

"And so you have, my boy, quite some time ago, too." Albus smiled, deciding not to press him about the Cruciatus just yet. "It's a good thing that Tom doesn't know just how long ago that was."

Snape made no reply. He glanced at the Headmaster's blackened hand.

"How's the hand? Any better?"

"It's still sore and stiff, but I do believe the effects have lessened."

"Or you're just getting used to it." Snape supplied before changing the subject, probably in reaction to the Headmaster's look of annoyance at being treated like an invalid. He slipped into one of the armchairs in the office, making himself comfortable. "That's one of the things I myself will never understand." Severus began. "Why _do_ you trust me? Why did you trust me from the very _beginning_?" If the intense look in his eyes was anything to go by, these questions were very important to him.

"I am a trusting old fool, am I not?" Albus smiled, eyes twinkling.

"The Dark Lord is the fool for believing that!" Snape retorted. "But honestly, don't you think I have a right to know the truth?"

Oh, if he only knew how much of the truth he doesn't know! Albus thought sadly. He didn't let the remorse he felt get the better of him though.

"You have, Severus, but I am afraid that I cannot give you a satisfactory answer. I trust you because of who you are and because you deserve it. You've never given me reason to question you, do not question me."

Severus sighed, but let the matter drop.

"Well, now that it's official, our bone of contention is gone – at least the most major one, that is. What shall I whine and rave about now that I have the position I've supposedly been craving for these many years?"

"There's always Harry." Albus suggested helpfully, knowing that there was some truth in what Severus was saying, even if he had made it sound more like a joke than serious consideration. The Potions Master couldn't afford to be publicly seen as being on too amicable terms with Dumbledore. And even at Hogwarts, one never knew who might be listening.

"I suppose… But that's not very inspiring, nor very original – I've been doing that for what? Six years or so? Since a year before he came to school, if memory serves."

"I'm sure you'll think of something. I put my full trust in you." Albus said seriously. Snape shot him a deadly glare for that last, well worn comment, so the Headmaster decided that it was as good a time as any to address the Cruciatus Curse which the man had suffered… or more likely **Curses**.

SSS

Dumbledore walked slowly across an old graveyard, stopping every once in a while to pay his respects to old friends and acquaintances who resided in this quiet, peaceful place. A tall, dark figure stood at the far end, contemplating a double grave of a married couple:

_Lillian and James Potter_

Even from afar, the Headmaster knew that grave. Albus also recognised the figure beside it immediately. He made his approach and in order to get to the grave where his young colleague was stood, he had to walk past another grave:

_Eileen and Tobias Snape_

There was a single white lily under Eileen's name and the old, battered headstone looked to be vaguely better kept than its other half, where Tobias' name was barely legible, covered in moss as it was. Dumbledore tore his gaze away to find the son of these two people. Severus was now kneeling by the Potters' grave, and while still too far to hear clearly, Albus knew he was speaking softly to his departed friend, as he laid a large bouquet of beautiful white lilies beneath her engraved name. Sadly, Dumbledore looked back to the single flower – like a scrap from a king's table thrown to a beggar – on the grave of Severus' mother, and the bare, neglected part that represented Severus' father.

"What's the occasion?" Albus asked when he came upon Severus, startling him – it was very rare that anyone could surprise the ever-vigilant and very observant Potions Master.

"It's Lily's birthday today."

"Really?" Albus asked in surprise. "You're right, it is." He remembered, but looking back to his young friend, he knew there was more to it. While Severus had always given Lily lilies for her birthday when she'd been alive and had continued to do so even after her death, Albus knew that this visit was different from the ones previous.

"'I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.'" Severus quoted melancholically, seemingly out of the blue, as they'd been talking of something else, but the setting was just right. "Do you think one can truly find peace there?"

"Yes, I do. Why are you asking me this?" Albus didn't like the look in Severus' eyes as he looked one last time at the Potters' grave, his gaze lingering on Lily's name, before turning to leave. The old warlock followed suit and they walked side by side. They passed the Snapes' grave, but Severus didn't even spare it the briefest glance, while his eyes did rest on the grave of Evan Rosier, which was further down their path, for a long moment and he even paused briefly, as though to bid both greetings and farewell to his once close friend. Dumbledore really didn't appreciate the look in his young protégé's obsidian eyes.

"I am trying to decide whether my hope is warranted. After all, I will be joining these sleepers soon enough – I doubt I will be able to come here next year, at least, come here and be a visitor, rather than a permanent resident." Severus answered the Headmaster's question, even though the old wizard had thought he wouldn't be receiving one.

Now Dumbledore knew why Severus' eyes had filled him with such dread. He'd been saying goodbye. It weren't just his eyes that said their farewells and made their peace with the dead. That single lily was probably one of the very few (if not the only) flowers Eileen had ever received from her son and the words spoken to Lily Potter had probably been the first to bring any true closure to Severus. Albus was fairly certain that Severus had never been in love with Lily and that their relationship had only ever been that of close friendship and perhaps sisterly/brotherly love, but he also knew that Lily's marriage to James had been something that Severus had had a hard time accepting. The young man had never forgiven James Potter for the way he'd tormented him at Hogwarts, but most of all, he'd never been able to forgive him for saving his life when all he'd wanted had been death… Dumbledore tried not to think about it, but he was well aware that Severus had never fully regained his desire to live since that failed suicide attempt. He almost never thought about it, because it also inevitably led to thoughts of his own major role in bringing that about. It had been his fault then, as it was now.

Dumbledore looked away, unable to face the wizard at his side, lest he be overwhelmed by guilt.

It was happening more and more often, he realised.

SSS

Dumbledore and Snape were sitting in the old Headmaster's office, obviously in the middle of an important conversation.

"So, are we certain that these are Horcruxes – plural – that we are going to be dealing with?"

"Not yet, Severus." The young man rubbed his hand over his face in frustration.

"How exactly are you planning to find out? I think it's safe to assume that there are going to be more, since we've already encountered two."

Severus looked questioningly at the Headmaster, waiting for a reply.

"Yes, it does stand to reason that there might be more." Albus agreed. "But there is no way of really knowing… and certainly none of determining how many there are, exactly."

"There must be a way… other than walking up to him and asking, that is."

Snape grew thoughtful, abandoning his frustration, and turned to the fire in contemplation. He laced his fingers together and rested his chin against them. Dumbledore eyed him curiously, but said nothing. It was a cool summer evening and the fire burned merrily. The old wizard enjoyed the warmth of the fire and, despite the tone of the conversation, or the current gloomy silence, he was enjoying his young protégé's company even more.

"Six Horcruxes." Snape said quietly, but with conviction, eyes never straying from the flames. Albus glanced at him in surprise, his own thoughts having drifted astray some time ago. He'd been contemplating the true relationship between himself and Severus, as well as his desire for the truth to be made known to the younger man. He'd come close to confessing it when he'd thought himself as good as dead when he'd come to Snape's quarters after destroying Voldemort's Horcrux… but now that he'd survived, he was glad that Severus had stopped him. The young Professor's increasing trust and slowly growing affection for him meant far too much to him. Dumbledore knew he'd inevitably lose them both to this secret…

"How do you know that?"

"I know my enemy and often try to think like him. Seven is the most powerfully magical number. Also, the Dark Lord would have wanted to make a statement even with the number itself, hence seven would be the most obvious choice…"

"But…" The Headmaster's eyes widened and his mouth formed an 'O' shape as realisation hit. "Seven pieces of the soul: six Horcruxes and the seventh piece being the one in his body." Blue eyes narrowed and the man sat up straighter, wincing slightly as he had to put too much weight on his blackened hand. "Do you think he'd have replaced the diary Horcrux? He is aware of its destruction; you've said yourself that it was one of the reasons for Voldemort's… _dissatisfaction_ with Lucius."

"No, I don't think so. As I've said, I believe he'd hold too much importance in the number itself – for many reasons. Does the hand hurt badly?"

"No, not unless I aggravate it." He was quick to return the conversation to its proper direction. "Do you mean to tell me that you, being the Potions Master that you are, don't hold much importance in numbers?" Albus raised both eyebrows in disbelief.

"Of course I do, but only in the correct context. I wouldn't hold any importance in a number if it didn't serve its purpose. Somehow, I don't think seven is the best choice when it comes to Horcruxes. And yet the more I think about it, the more I'd stake my life on it that that's what the Dark Lord's done."

"Why don't you think seven is the best choice?"

"It doesn't make sense… not logically."

"But it's **magic** we're talking about here." Albus had always had trouble understanding Severus' need to find logic in everything, well, almost everything.

To Dumbledore, **magic** was a chaotic force that could be used through certain means, but never completely controlled nor understood. He accepted it as such and so did most people. Severus had always been a bit of a maverick, though. What astounded the Headmaster were the results the man had, despite his unique way of approaching magic… More than once, Albus had considered the possibility that this was exactly the reason for his success. Severus saw magic as a powerful force, powerful and far-reaching enough that it was most unpredictable, but one that was governed by its own rules and regulations just the same – whether those rules were immediately apparent or known to people, or not. It was true that there were some rules that were well known and understood, but they were very few, too few to allow wizards complete control over magic. His grandson saw and understood patterns that Albus could neither see nor understand – it was as much a gift as was the Sight.

Severus had once said to Dumbledore that to him, it was never about exerting control over magic, it was about understanding it and finding ways for it to be regulated. Where exactly the difference lay, Albus didn't quite know. What he did know, however, was that few people alive could create their own spells. It was not a mere matter of arranging words and wand movements correctly – a bit of a wizard's innate power went into any spell or even potion that he created for the first time. Technically, it was said that every wizard or witch had the power to create at least one potion or spell in their lifetime, but for some the task went way beyond their abilities and most didn't even try. As far as Albus knew, the Weasley twins had this rare ability, as well as a select group of researchers all over the world; who all had to report to their respective governments. One person couldn't create a great deal of spells in their lifetime, and not just because of the difficulty of it, but because of the toll it took on their magic. Some wizards throughout the history of the wizarding world had even lost all their magic entirely and irreversibly due to a spell or potion that had taken too much out of them. Others needed time to recover before they could even think of conducting new research. Some were affected more than others, just like there were more and less powerful wizards and witches. From what Albus could see, his Severus ranked amongst the most powerful ones of their time. It was a pity that he only had time to work on things that could be utilised in their fight against Voldemort.

Severus did suffer from severe exhaustion, but he never seemed to require more than a bit of sleep and a slightly increased amount of food to recover. What was more, Albus never knew whether he suffered any symptoms at all only because he usually forgot to eat and didn't have time to sleep while at the end of researching something, or it was the toll that losing some of his magic had to take on him. There was something strange and truly 'magical' (for want of a better term) about the way he researched new potions and spells. More often than not, he used his instincts as much as his extensive knowledge and he did this with astonishing confidence and with unfailingly good results. Albus had always admired his grandson for it, even if he hadn't been able to fully comprehend this rare form of magical ability.

The Weasley twins used their combined magic for their inventions, which made their task easier, and, more often than not, they didn't get into the whole process of inventing – they merely used spells, charms and potions that were well known, but on different things or in different ways. It was slightly different when one was introducing adjustments to known spells or potions, but not by much.

Severus had always been exceptionally good at both creating and improving, and it was this resourcefulness that made him as valuable to the Order as his skills at spying did.

"Which _doesn't_ mean that one _can not_ apply **logic** to the problem." Severus said firmly, giving the air of someone unwilling to get into another argument on a subject that had apparently caused disharmony before. "Five makes for the strongest _magical anchor_. It's sometimes used in the most ancient and most obscure Potions." He elaborated.

"Which Tom has never been overly fond of." Albus concluded, a smile playing over his lips. "He only pretended to enjoy the class because of Horace."

"I believe some people don't change much as the time passes. He still has no interest in the art and very little respect for it." Snape smirked, eyes glinting like few had ever seen them do. They'd made progress, that was clear. "Oh, and speaking of the old Slug, how about getting him as Potions Master?"

Albus smiled indulgently, eyes twinkling.

"You're not going to make him soon forget that you're the youngest Potions Master in history, while it had taken him years to complete his Mastery, are you, if I do hire him?"

It was true, but more than that, while both men were _**titled**_ Potions Masters, Horace Slughorn was a good _brewer_, but he lacked the innate gift Severus had for creating new potions. It had taken the older man years to complete the Individual Experiment part of the Mastery, which Severus had aced with no trouble at all.

"Should I?" Severus asked innocently.

"No, by all means, I wouldn't want to rob you of your fun." Dumbledore laughed and Severus smiled slightly – a dangerous, predatory smile. "But seriously, do you honestly think your Slytherins would react well to him? They're in a difficult enough situation now as it is. Having another Slytherin teacher besides their Head of House might complicate things."

"Well enough, I suppose. He'd be a better replacement for me than any other Slytherin I can think of once I'm gone, too, which isn't really saying much, but at least he's not likely to _actively_ recruit those dunderheads of mine into the Dark Lord's ranks. Which doesn't mean he will do anything to protect them and _that's_ what worries me." Snape sighed. "If he just truly gave a damn about anyone but himself…"

"That is my concern as well, but that is also the very reason why your idea of hiring him has merit. It'll be safer to have him here than somewhere where Tom can get his hands on him. He may be egocentric and may not see much beyond his own person and his wide range of connections, but he _is_ my friend and I would hate to see anything happen to him. Especially since I can offer him safety here at the school and, while not as extensive as yours, his knowledge of Potions could prove useful. There would be far less strain on you were he to take over supplying the Hospital Wing and the Order with potions."

"So you don't believe he could be pressured into joining the Dark Lord?"

"I don't believe he could be, but…" Albus trailed off, unwilling to say something like that of his old friend.

"But one never knows and a lot depends on circumstances." Severus finished for him, being kinder in his choice of words than he probably would have been with anyone else. "There'd be another upside to him teaching. He always accepted students who'd got Es on their OWLs, and Merlin knows Potter needs all the knowledge he can get. Anyone else teaching might have wanted to uphold my standards."

"Seeing as your results have been unparalleled by any other Potions Master, not only of this school, but also anywhere else?" Albus raised an eyebrow at the young man, to which he just smirked. He was baiting him and Severus knew it.

"You said it, not me, Albus. May Fawkes be my witness, because I did _**not**_ brag at all!"

The bird in question cooed as it heard mention of its name but soon settled back on its perch, looking disinterested in the men's conversation.

SSS

"Good morning, Albus. How's your hand?" Severus greeted as he and the Headmaster met in one of the many corridors at Hogwarts.

"Good morning, Severus. My hand is fine and you don't have to ask about it every time you see me." Albus was clearly exasperated, but that didn't faze the young wizard.

"Have you asked the Slug yet?"

"Yes, and he's refused the position." Albus sighed, the twinkle diminishing in his eyes.

"What you need is a strategy, Albus." Severus smirked, being in an unusually good mood.

"You're in a chipper mood! What happened? Did Voldemort have a sudden heart attack that no one saw fit to inform me of?"

"Nothing that good. I've just had some head-way in my research."

"Congratulations." Albus clapped a hand on his shoulder and the pair walked down the corridor together. "Any suggestions with Horace?"

"Possibly."

"Anything you'd be kind enough to share?" Albus queried when Snape remained silent.

Severus gave him a sly smile.

"Oh, I don't know… Potter might have something, though."

"Harry?"

"Who else but such a _celebrity_? The _'Chosen One'_, isn't he now?" Severus asked in mock surprise. "I have to get back to my lab. I think I'm really on to something to help with your hand. See you later! And good luck!" He went off, a spring in his step, leaving an incredulous but slowly smiling Dumbledore behind to shake his head at his retreating back.

"I think it just might work, my dear Head of **Slytherin**." The old wizard said into his silvery beard.

SSS

"Tired?"

Severus' silky voice floated over the gentle hum of the stream by which the old Headmaster had found refuge. It was in a small clearing in the Forbidden Forest and it was a place that the old wizard frequented whenever he was feeling troubled or sad, or just when he needed some time to himself… like now.

"No, I just came here to think, Severus."

"Ah hah. And you're just leaning against that oak, looking like death warmed over, if I might say, and with your eyes closed – to aid your concentration? Come on, Albus, this is me, your wayward Slytherin turned prodigal son. Just give up the pretence of omniscience and infallibility in front of me. Unlike the rest of the wizard population, I don't need that from you, I really don't." The relatively young Slytherin Professor sat down next to the older, Gryffindor one, dark eyes honest and open like they almost never were.

It was true that the Slytherin didn't need him to pretend to be anything but human – Severus was the only person who had no problem openly disagreeing with him or questioning his judgement, whether or not he was being asked for his opinion or not. He had no qualms pointing out his mistakes, either. After what Severus had suffered – both at home and at school, while theoretically being under the protection of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, his experiences had disabused him of any notion, he may have otherwise been tempted to develop, that Albus was a grand saviour and protector of all those in need. No, Severus Snape believed no such thing. He knew that the Headmaster cared and tried to help whenever he could, but he was not blind to the fact that the man didn't always know when that help was necessary or that he sometimes failed to or in providing it.

Severus demanded… no, _needed_… something quite different from Albus Dumbledore than the rest of the wizard world seemed to require – he needed to see him as a human being – powerful and wise, to be sure, but also fallible and with his own faults. Whether it was to ease his own conscience, by having proof that not everyone was perfect – no matter what the majority of people liked to profess, or because he was tired enough of Lord Voldemort and his pretence of godhood, without having to contend with something similar on a daily basis at the place where he lived and spent most of his time – that Albus didn't know. However, what he did know was that he appreciated and enjoyed those moments when he could be free to be himself – to share his doubts and frustrations, to bemoan his mistakes and seek advice from another person without having to twinkle and pretend he was oh-so-very-wise-and-all-knowing even as he did so.

It was refreshing. It was grand. It was what made him long for Severus' company all the more in these troubled times, even though the secrets he kept from the man seemed to weigh heavier and heavier upon him with every passing day.

Severus needed openness and trust – it pained Albus that he could only give him the latter, while trying to take as much of both from his grandson as he could.

"I know, Severus, I know. It is difficult to break a habit of what seems to be a lifetime by now…"

Severus smiled whimsically at the man's words. The expression on his face saying: 'Tell me about it!' or something to that effect, no doubt in relation to the many masks and habits he himself had developed during his much shorter life.

It had to be strange to see the two of them like this – all pretence gone, both of them with their guard down… not entirely, but more so than either of them ever allowed themselves anywhere else and in anyone else's company.

"Tired, then?" A thin, charcoal eyebrow rose in both question and jest.

"Exhausted, but more world-weary than anything else." Dumbledore admitted as he leaned back again, eyes turning to the lively stream and the water that playfully skirted around the rocks. He envied that energy. The hum of the water, the sweet melody of the birds hidden within the branches of the tree behind his back and the ones flying nearby were hypnotic. The peaceful spot brought him comfort and its serenity had come to be appreciated by the black-clad, raven-haired, dark-eyed man who'd invaded the old wizard's privacy…

It did not follow that the invasion was unwelcome.

"My time is near, Severus, and I am more than ready to make that final journey." He whispered quietly.

"Don't say that." Snape said quickly, but in an equally quiet voice, as if not daring to spoil the peaceful atmosphere around them.

"It is true, Severus, whether or not either of us wish it to be so."

Why were his thoughts so morbid all the time? He wondered. It might be because there's so much death and suffering going around… Severus' dry voice replied in his mind. That voice had come to be there only shortly after Severus had begun spying for Albus – the sarcastic, taciturn, sometimes infuriatingly too serious and reasonable man had needed little time to earn Dumbledore's heartfelt respect.

Severus said nothing. He followed the flight of a bird as it flew from one of the trees on their side of the stream to sit on a rock on the other bank.

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"How did you learn about Horcruxes, really? Not many people do – not from your generation and the later ones, or so I hope." The question had troubled the Headmaster in the past – not that he believed that Severus would make one. The man had little desire to live at all, much less to live for an eternity!

"I read and learn a lot – I always have, you know that." Severus shrugged, not looking at Albus, but speaking honestly. "It's not like I'd ever thought of making one, though, I can promise you that. The Philosopher's Stone has more appeal to me – for the mere challenge of its creation." He actually grinned as he said this, eyes glittering.

"Yes, you always did love reading. Knowledge is power, after all."

"'Imagination is more important than knowledge for knowledge is limited to all we know now and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.'" Severus quoted in reply.

"What book is that?"

"It's Albert Einstein." Severus smirked, self-satisfied at having thrown the old Muggle-loving warlock.

"You're quoting a _Muggle scientist_?"

"Which side of this war are you on, Albus? Just because they can't use magic doesn't mean they're stupid." Snape said with exaggerated indignation, seemingly determined not to take offence from Dumbledore's words.

"I know that, it's just that…" Dumbledore trailed of, unsure of what it was that he wanted to say. He hadn't known that Severus had any knowledge of Muggles – at least he'd been certain that he had no more knowledge than the average pure-blood, seeing as he'd grown up with wizard parents and that Tobias had resented his Muggle roots. Add to that the fact that Severus was as true a Slytherin as they came – no matter what the Hat had said during his Sorting Ceremony – and this was truly a surprise.

"I'm a half-blood, Albus." Snape said calmly, as if that made it obvious that he should know more about Muggles than the average wizard.

"I know, child, but your father didn't exactly _embrace_ his culture and I know that neither did your mother – despite her lack of prejudice." Albus cringed inwardly at the blatant lie. Tobias had _never_ been a Muggle-born and the culture had _never_ been truly _his_. The old man dreaded the day when Severus learned of this and everything else that had been kept from him over the years…

"But, as you yourself have just said, 'knowledge is power'. It's one of our Slytherin maxims." Severus concluded and then his lips curled into his customary smirk. His eyes glittered with amusement and malicious mischief. "Besides, there's nothing that aggravates pure-bloods more than Muggle references that go right over their heads, thrown here and there, every once in a while." Albus chuckled at that. "On a more serious note, though, I genuinely believe that some of the Muggles' latest inventions could prove useful to us in the near future. It's quite refreshing and interesting to see how they find solutions to their problems, without having to depend on magic."

"Chemistry seems like something you'd be particularly interested in, my dear Potions Master." Albus smiled affectionately, the tone of the conversation easing.

"It most certainly is and I've already managed to put what I've learned of it to good use."

"You have?" Dumbledore was aghast. He'd known nothing about it! So much for his pretence of omniscience!

"I'll show you, if you want. You're a brilliant alchemist after all – you might have some suggestions."

"I am also very, very old and very tired, Severus. I doubt I could be of any help to you, my boy, especially with something I have little knowledge of. I do not pretend to know much about chemistry or any other Muggle sciences."

"I'm sure you'd like to know their secret to producing those awful sherbet lemons of yours, though." Severus teased good-naturedly, putting on a face of mock-disgust for better effect. He smiled at the Headmaster then turned his gaze to the opposite bank of the stream. The little bird he'd been watching earlier was still there.

"That I would." Albus agreed, laughing softly. They sat in companionable silence for a long while afterwards.

"A Galleon for your thoughts." Albus broke the silence.

"A Galleon?" Severus raised both eyebrows as he looked at the older wizard. Dumbledore wouldn't be the wizard that he was if he didn't recognise a stalling tactic when he saw one. The grim expression that had settled over Severus' face in the last few minutes was a dead giveaway that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

"I know from experience that your thoughts are usually worth quite a lot." Albus smiled and his eyes twinkled merrily, trying to ease Snape's worries. Severus turned away for a moment, his expression serious. He played with a small stone in his hands before tossing it into the stream. At length, he spoke.

"I was thinking about Draco."

Albus didn't know what to say to this and his smile faltered.

"I'm his godfather and essentially I've _sworn_ to protect him _twice_ now. All I can think of is how I've already failed him and how much it will cost him when I am unable to fulfil those promises again."

"There was nothing you could have done for him. Nothing more than all that you already have done, Severus. All is not lost yet, there may yet be a way to save Draco. You're the one who doesn't believe that he is Lucius' replica, you'll have to trust him... or at least have some faith in him."

"This coming from a person who believes otherwise." Severus snorted.

"I don't know Draco, Severus – certainly not as well as you do – but I trust _you _and _your _judgement. If you say that there's more to Draco than most people ever get to see and that what he is hiding behind his facade is good, then I believe that wholeheartedly." Dumbledore said truthfully. "While he and Lucius may not be as alike as appearances would suggest, you can not deny the fact that young Draco has always tried to follow what path Lucius had set for him. It is only understandable because Lucius is his father and Draco loves him and wishes to make him proud. He will need to grow up soon, though, and learn to be his own master."

"I know and something tells me he'll have a lot of opportunity for starting the process this year." Severus sighed. "I only hope he gets the chance to grow up to be _himself_ – not another Lucius. I don't understand him, you know. Lucius had never been the father everyone supposes him to be – that's all been part of his act – and yet Draco _still_ tries to please him, even though he should have realised by now that there's no satisfying him."

"He loves his father, Severus – all children do."

"No, they don't. I've always hated mine." Severus countered calmly.

"Hate is a powerful word." Albus said softly. The fact that he knew that Severus genuinely felt like that about his father sent a chill down his spine.

"I know; that's why I save it for those who deserve it: my father, Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange – in that order."

"Don't say his name, Severus!" Albus latched onto the only escape route available to him.

"Aren't you the one who keeps saying that 'fear of a name…'"

"This is different! Your life could very well be at stake for something so trivial – don't joke about this!"

Severus opened his mouth to make a reply, the momentary flash of humour and bitterness alerted Albus to its probable content, before a mask of indifference slipped onto the man's pale face. Dumbledore felt that he couldn't at this moment stand to witness Severus' nonchalant attitude when it came to the young wizard's death.

"Don't!" He said forcefully. "Whatever it is that you were going to say – please don't!" He averted his gaze and closed his eyes to hide the pain he felt. Albus knew full well what Severus had been about to say or at least he had a far better idea than he wished to. There _**had**_ to be a way to save Severus from the death that now seemed so imminent and inescapable… At least in the past few years, while never exactly embracing life and thinking of death far more often than could be considered healthy, he hadn't spoken of death with such a dreadful mixture of bitterness, resignation… and that profound longing that shook Albus to the core. He'd been almost… content… and now?

Snape frowned but closed his mouth. He then studied the Headmaster with a mixture of confusion and concern. They sat like that for a long time, the silence no longer a comfortable one, before Dumbledore managed to compose himself.

"I would have preferred to see the end of this war and to see my children find happiness afterwards, but I don't think that it is to be." Albus said quietly – more to himself than Severus.

"I will look out for Potter for as long as I can." Severus assured, apparently choosing not to press the previous topic, even if this one was by far the more unpleasant one to him, as Albus was well aware.

Albus smiled gently in appreciation, some of the clouds in which his face had been shrouded disappearing in light of the expression. He turned to face the dark wizard, whose eyes weren't on him anymore.

"I know you will." He said softly. "But Harry isn't the only one of my children that I would have wanted to see happy and free after this war ends." He heaved a heavy sigh, filled with remorse and regret. "I would give anything to see you find the happiness and freedom that you deserve and which you have been denied for so long."

Startled, Severus tore his gaze from the chirruping bird he'd been studying and met the Headmaster's serious, sky-blue eyes. The sincerity he'd heard in his voice was nothing to the honesty and very real pain that could be read in the sapphire orbs.

Unable to hold that gaze, Severus turned away, speaking quietly.

"I doubt I will live past this year, not with the Vow I've made. Malfoy is probably going to try and kill Potter. That's usually the most popular idea with the Dark Lord. What else could his mission be? There's no way I can escape the Vow and I could never fulfil it. It's been almost longer than I can remember since I'd had any plans or wishes beyond this one – that I could live long enough to see the Dark Lord fall. As long as I had that, I could not want for anything and could die in peace and without regret… Now, when the end is so near, I suppose even that is irrelevant, just as long as I will finally find some peace from all of this… You're not the only one who's tired… or ready to make that final journey… Your concern for my welfare is appreciated, but unnecessary."

A tear slipped down Albus' cheek at those quiet words, spoken with an honesty and finality that tore at the old wizard's heart.

Perhaps that nonchalant attitude was preferable to this deep, deadly serious statement – **then** he could at least **try** to convince himself that it was no more than an act…

SSS

"How are Potter's lessons going? Is the brat showing any progress at all?"

"Do you _really_ hate the boy _half_ as much as you pretend to?" Albus asked, exasperated.

"I don't think so… I believe I would have had some real trouble keeping him alive, if I did. Especially since I had Longbottom in my classes – always brewing disaster and in close proximity to your wonder boy… What with the average death toll that is considered normal during Potions classes, I would have had nothing but a load of annoying paperwork to suffer, if I'd ever failed to banish the next explosive or poisonous potion from Longbottom's cauldron…"

"Severus!" Albus scolded.

"What?"

"I asked you a serious question and death is not something to joke about. Besides, seeing as no student of yours has ever died during or because of Potions classes, I believe there would have been an official enquiry as to why you'd suddenly been unable to prevent disaster. That perfect record you take so much pride in would have worked against you."

"Now who's not being serious?" Snape retorted. "And really, I was being entirely serious. How difficult would it have been for me to _not_ see the danger and _not_ do anything in time?" Snape glanced at Dumbledore. "However, there's a very good, perfectly legitimate reason why I don't really _hate_ him."

"And that would be?"

"Wouldn't _you _like to know?!"

"Fine, keep your secrets, but I'd appreciate it if you kept your pretences out of my office as well. It would make conversation a lot more pleasant."

"I'm afraid I can't. One never knows who might be listening."

"And yet we're having this conversation?"

"It would appear so."

"This office is as secure as it is possible for any place to be, as you very well know. None of this is going to get back to Tom."

"Did I say it was the Dark Lord and his minions I was worried about?" A dark eyebrow arched itself over an equally dark eye. He grimaced as though he'd tasted something sour as he continued to speak. "I feel about as comfortable around the constant glares and the unending flow of accusations from most of your Order members as I do under Crucio at the Dark Lord's feet. If any of them heard our private conversations, they might actually get it into their heads that I'm actually _human_! Heaven forbid that happening anytime soon! I'll take being 'The Great Bat Of The Dungeons', a 'Vampire Using Potions On Those Occasions When Seen In The Light Of Day' or those very general terms that place me with neither humans, nor any other creatures – such as 'Greasy Git' or 'Evil Bastard'." His lips curled in a smirk.

"Can I ask you a question, Severus?" Albus asked seriously.

"You just did, but I'm open for another one." He quipped, consulting his watch.

"It's something that I've been wondering for quite some time and now that you mentioned the Order and their attitude towards you, I can not help but ask when I think of yours to them: Do you make it a study to annoy people, Severus?" Albus asked, still all seriousness and careful consideration, to which Severus replied equally.

"No, it's only a part-time hobby." Neither one was able to keep a straight face for much longer and had to laugh. However, Severus' laughter, as always, was by far more restrained. "And for the record," he said after the amusement subsided, "I may not _hate_ Potter, but I do _dislike_ him. He doesn't apply himself – not in Potions, not now in DADA (when he should be learning all that he can) and not in most other classes, not as much as he should – also, he chooses to be insolent – while I appreciated Lily's cheek and even appreciate it in some of my students – when it's accompanied by a good performance in class – I won't stand for it when it comes from Potter."

SSS

"I know what Draco's mission is!" Severus spoke the moment the door to the Headmaster's office had closed behind him. The words weren't triumphant… far from it. The wizard who'd uttered them looked even paler than usual and he paled still more as he continued. "He is supposed to kill _you_."

SSS

"I will not let you sacrifice yourself for _me_!" Albus cried; the two wizards were obviously in the middle of a heated argument.

"And I will not let you do the same for _me_!" Snape shouted angrily.

"I am _old_! My time is upon me whatever you or young Draco decide to do!"

"I don't care how old you are! You could be ten times the age you are, my answer would still be the same: ABSOLUTELY NOT! NO WAY IN HELL! NOT IN THIS LIFETIME! WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER! WHEN THE DARK LORD GROWS HIMSELF A HEART AND CONSCIENCE! Do you get the picture now, or do I have to be more specific! YOU CAN JUST FUCKING FORGET IT, YOU CRAZY OLD FOOL!!!" Snape snarled.

One argument merged into another, little information being passed between the two wizards except for the angry words exchanged every time their conversation strayed to Draco Malfoy, Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter…

As the time passed, it seemed that even something as innocuous as tea could lead both their thoughts down that path... Always with the same results – with Snape leaving in a swirl of black robes, slamming the door shut behind him, often making the delicate objects in the Headmaster's office shatter in his wake.

SSS

The setting changed. The two wizards were no longer anywhere in the castle, they were walking outside, on the school grounds.

"You are strong, Severus, you always have been." Albus was saying.

"You take too much for granted! Maybe I don't want to do it anymore? Maybe I don't want to be strong anymore? Maybe I choose to be weak? Maybe just once in my life I can choose for myself, instead of being pushed and manipulated!"

"You've agreed to do this! The day you swore loyalty to me, you essentially agreed to this as well as anything else it took to win this war!" Albus said firmly, blue eyes flashing angrily. "Will you turn your back on that promise? Take the coward's way out?!" Albus demanded. "If you think for one moment that I will let you, then think again, young man! You will do what has to be done, like you always have! And I don't want to argue any more on this matter! Do we understand each other?"

A rustle of leaves alerted both to the presence of someone else nearby. A large shadow slipping away made it clear who it had been – only Hagrid or his 'little' brother could have a shadow that size…

Snape showed no outward sign of what effect the Headmaster's words had had on him, except for the blank look in his fathomless eyes.

"Good." The Headmaster met the hard, charcoal eyes staring at him and took his silence for tacit agreement. "Now, how are those enquiries going in Slytherin? Did you find anything of interest?"

"Nothing that hasn't been known before, _Sir_. I will give you a full report, once the enquiry is complete." Snape said curtly. "I have lessons to plan. If that is all, _Sir_?"

"Yes, I believe that is all." He forced himself to say in return, but he found himself unable to part with the wizard on such terms, so he tried to stop him. "Severus…"

"Good day then, _Sir_. If you have any more _orders_ for me, you know where to find me, _Head__**MASTER**_." Severus bowed his dark head to the old wizard and turned on his heel, leaving without even waiting for a reply. It was a wonder that he could control that amount of anger, if the stiffness of his shoulders and the clenched fists as he walked away were anything to go by.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed with pain, as Snape's studiously polite tone changed almost imperceptibly to stress the last syllables of a title that now seemed more cutting and demeaning than the worst imaginable insult…

SSS

In his private quarters, Severus stood by a large window overlooking the Forbidden Forest and the lake. He held a whiskey glass in his pale, long-fingered hand. An empty bottle near his broken coffee table and the one that was only half empty and stood on the windowsill explained the unsteadiness of his legs as he had to lean against the glass and rest his forehead on his forearm to keep standing. His eyes never strayed from one distant spot somewhere in the vast darkness outside.

"Severus…?" A hesitant voice asked from the entrance. Dumbledore had been standing there for quite a while, observing the wreckage that the younger man had made of this room…

Books strewn all around on the floor, an upturned armchair, the broken coffee table… broken glass, pieces scattered everywhere, announcing their presence as they glinted in the dying light of the fire in the hearth… The bookshelves that had lined the walls were no more than pieces of splintered wood lying on the floor…

Careful not to cause any more damage to the priceless tomes lying about, Albus forced his way into the room. Cautiously, he approached Snape, but remained three feet behind him.

"I should not have said what I did outside, Severus." He received no reaction. Not that he'd expected a response. "I am sorry. You know that I didn't mean any of it. You are one of the bravest people I know and calling you a coward for not wanting to become a murderer was unfair of me… But the choice that lies before you is an unfair one. Life is and has always been unfair… More so to some than others."

"I am already a murderer, Sir." Snape said in a lifeless tone, without turning or moving at all. Albus flinched at those words. That 'Sir' at the end hurt as much as the words preceding it.

"What you do for the Order is not…"

"**It is!**" Snape said forcefully, with his back firmly to the older wizard. "But I have been one since before that… The potions I'd created, even if I'd never administered them, had been responsible for many deaths. I'd as good as murdered many people before I came to you… even if it had been done indirectly."

Albus said nothing, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He stepped forward and reached a hesitant hand to his young friend and protégé's shoulder, but Snape flinched away, apparently having realised his intent when he'd caught sight of movement in the glass reflection in the window.

"Just go away, Sir."

"Severus, please…" Albus took another step, so that he could see the man's profile.

Severus closed his eyes tightly and whispered in a barely audible, strangely calm and emotionless voice.

"I can't do it." Albus knew what he was talking about without having to ask for clarification.

"Can't or won't, Severus?" Albus spoke, a glint of anger flashing in his eyes at what he saw as the man's stubbornness. What he was suggesting… well, _**ordering**_, really, was the only reasonable solution, after all! It was even a good strategic move! He was old and dispensable! People put entirely too much value on his life… as well as gave far too much weight to his every word. Why couldn't Severus see things clearly? The choice wasn't really even _that_! It wasn't even a true _choice_! The answer was glaringly obvious! Albus had feared that the Unbreakable Vow might claim Severus' life if Draco's mission had been to kill Harry, but with him as target, the danger was gone.

It was so simple.

Even without considering the prophecy, it was one long, already spent life for another – for a life that could still be long and happy, for a life that still had a future and hope…

"Either…" Severus whispered softly. "Neither…" He still held his eyes firmly closed. "Essentially – both." He concluded apathetically.

**As he watched the unfolding memories, Severus remembered all too clearly what his thoughts at this moment had been:**

'_He __**couldn't**__ do it, because he loved the Headmaster too much. He __**wouldn't**__ do it, because he knew how important the man was to everyone… not least of all to him…_

_And yet he __**would**__ do it, if it was necessary… He knew he was capable of such an action… _

_Paradoxically, he __**could**__ do it for the very same reason why he __**couldn't**__: he loved the old man…'_

"You have to!" The Headmaster's tenuous control over his temper slipped.

The glass of whiskey the younger man had been holding shattered as he smashed it against the stone wall, holding his open, bleeding palm pressed tightly against what sharp pieces remained, before letting it fall to his side – clenched in a tight fist – blood dripping onto the floor. Shards of glass imbedded themselves deep within his palm, but he paid it no heed…

Severus had once told Albus that sometimes pain could be welcome… That it could be soothing, in a way. It was something he'd become most intimately acquainted with and it gave him comfort in its familiarity… and in his own ability to control his reaction to it, when he had so little control over everything else in his life…

"_I don't have to!_ God damn it! I don't have to do anything!" He whipped around to glare at Dumbledore. "I never did! I never had to do _anything_ you told me to! I did that because I _chose_ to! All I could have done to be free of _you_ and _your __**orders**_ was to _**betray**_you! And honestly, no one could have ever _blamed _me! Not after the countless times you'd done the same to _me_!" Snape yelled in fury. "I served you, because I _chose_ to do so! At any time I could have left and you would never have found me! How _dare_ you, what _right_ do you have to ask… to _demand_ something like _that_ of _**me**_? Don't you have other people who worship you enough to do your bidding, no matter what it may be? What about the rest of the Order? How about _them_? How about _anyone_ else?!" Severus demanded. "_No?_ Why _not_? Because they're not _murderers_, like _me_? Because each of them still has a _soul_, while it won't make much of a difference to _my torn and shattered one_?!" Snape cried, the torment he felt finally breaking through his shields – weakened by the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed and because they'd been upheld and continuously strained for so long… His façade crumbled to reveal the raw agony he felt… "I _can't_! I _won't_!"

Slowly, the young wizard slid to the floor, his back sliding against the whiskey and blood stained wall. The tears he'd denied himself for so long finally spilled out, without any defences left to hold them.

Albus Dumbledore was aghast. He'd known that what he'd asked of the man had to be hard for him, but this reaction was something he hadn't anticipated.

Anger?

Yes.

Grief?

No.

He'd known he'd earned a measure of Severus' tentative trust and even his friendship. He remembered the words the young man had whispered when he'd believed him to be asleep when his hand had been injured only last summer, but he hadn't believed that they'd been true… He'd believed them to have been a dream… wishful thinking…

He'd wanted this young man's love more than anything. Probably because he'd known it to be an impossible goal… even without revealing the truth of their relationship to Severus. Severus had always been careful to trust anyone and to care for others… Bitter experience had taught him of the dangers feelings of love and devotion caused… Never having wanted to cause him any more pain than necessary, Albus had been careful not to let the young man too close to him. He'd loved him, even before he'd ever met him, only after he'd learned of his birth, but he'd never meant to allow the boy to get seriously attached to him… He'd known that it would only make things more difficult when the truth was revealed… and yet, now that he thought about it, he realised that his intentions had been one thing and his actions quite another.

In reality, from the moment Severus had renounced Voldemort and had come to him seeking help, Albus had done everything in his power to draw the then deeply hurt, lost and very insecure young man to him. Over the years he'd come to crave Snape's company and he'd prided himself in the trust he'd been given… he'd selfishly embraced the growing closeness between himself and his grandson, even if Severus had known nothing of their familial connection. Albus had cherished every moment of sincerity and openness that had occurred over the years…

Severus Snape was the type of man for whom anger came first and foremost, before any other feelings could surface… Whether it was an inherent trait or if he'd honed it over all the difficult years of his life was irrelevant. That anger had become one of his strongest and most basic defence mechanisms and it had saved his life countless times. It was the safest emotion that one could display to one's enemies… especially in the controlled, calculated form that Severus had only ever allowed for the Dark Lord and his followers to witness it. It could become a weakness the moment it truly got out of control, but Severus had never allowed that to happen with any of his plethora of enemies.

And even fewer had ever seen past that anger and into the man's heart when he was most vulnerable…

To Dumbledore, who'd just been offered that privilege, every sob that wracked Severus' body was like the merciless stroke of a dagger into his very heart.

Albus closed his eyes in pain and knelt on the floor next to the young wizard. Ignoring the faint protests, he enfolded him in his arms, ignoring the pain in his blackened hand – which he hadn't had time to treat with the ointment Severus had created for it – as he pulled the weeping man to his chest with all the strength his old body possessed.

The prophecy aside, Albus would give his life a thousand times over to ensure the life of his grandson!

SSS

"In the end, it will be your choice, Severus. I can not _order_ you to do anything."

SSS

The last memory was one that only magic could have brought there. It was a memory of that night on top of the Astronomy Tower.

"Severus…"

"Severus… please…"

_I can not __**order**__ you to do anything…_

The words from that last conversation seemingly mocked, a whisper carried by the wind, even though they were no more than a distant memory…

_I can not __**order**__ you to do anything…_

Or did those words reverberate in Albus' dying, poisoned mind – torturing him with the realisation of just how far his manipulations had gone? He'd tried to placate Severus, even then having decided to coincide his going after the locket with Draco's planned strike – whatever that would be, exactly, and if it was at all possible. He had suspected that its retrieval might claim his life, if the poison that had been found in a young, traitorous Death Eater, whose body had been found near the cave's location during the first war, could be anything to go by, and thus the choice would be taken out of Severus' hands.

And so it was, for what could Severus do? Even if he knew nothing of the poison and could only suspect it from Albus' weakened state, the situation was such as it was – one life for many. The gruesome arithmetic of the Devil… all in accordance with Albus' own calculations.

"Severus…"

"Severus… please…"

In the end, it hadn't been an order… it had been a plea… Nothing else had been necessary.

"Severus…"

"Severus… please…"

If only Severus had known which poison had been used on him… If only he could have told him… Eased his mind… Made him realise that he was _**saving**_ him by taking his life, because if he did not, a fate much worse would befall his body, his mind… and his soul…

If only the poison had not taken away much of his mind already, making it impossible to communicate its nature… but then, that was exactly its nature – to befuddle the mind until it was too late for anyone to help…

Albus couldn't even use Legillimency to communicate with Severus… but perhaps it was for the best, because he knew which thoughts would have come to the surface – his grandson did not need to learn the truth just yet – it might ease Albus' conscience, but it would only make things harder for Severus and he would need his wits about him, not be shell-shocked by learning the truth of his father and grandfather…

"Severus…"

"Severus… please…"

What was the plea for?

Death?

Understanding?

_Forgiveness?_

"Severus…"

"Severus… please…"

_I love you, Severus. _Albus' mind screamed as he felt himself being lifted and thrown over the edge… he hovered and fell… fell and fell, that last thought alive in his mind as his body hit the ground and perished…

**TBC…**

**A/N**

'I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.' – the closing words of "Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte

**The reason why I 'picked' these memories and had them written the way they are is because I wanted to show a different side of both Dumbledore and Severus – a side they showed to each other. Canon Snape may have shown respect for Dumbledore, but in my story he feels more than that and I just had to show the relationship between them as something less professional and more intimate. By seeing that, it becomes clear how much Severus has lost that night on the Astronomy Tower. How that's worked out… Well, you tell me. I don't think it's done right, but it'll have to do for now.**

**Also, I don't think that memories alone could assure Severus or anyone else – not when memories can be tampered with (I mean, I doubt I'm the only one who thinks that Albus would have done a better job of altering his memories than Slughorn), that's why they're accompanied by Albus' feelings and thoughts (advanced magic – that ;P). But, I don't think Severus will be entirely convinced about his grandfather's feelings for him.**

**The reason why the memories don't really go beyond that last year of Dumbledore's life is because those memories contain everything that Albus would have wanted to reveal… for the moment.**

**Please review!!! :-)**

**Does anyone else think I'm far more long-winded than my poor English should allow? LOL! Don't answer that! It was a rhetorical question and I already know the answer's positive ;) In my defence, I can say that writing is good practice! ;)**

**Next chapter: Aftermath**

**There'll be mention of some memories pertaining to the prophecy – perhaps the memories themselves, if I feel like writing them, but I wouldn't bet on it.**

45


	4. Aftermath

**Disclaimer:**** Nope, not mine, sorry! ;P**

**A/N**

**I know it sure has taken me long to post this and I'm really sorry, but I had a lot on my mind – University and real life in general, the usual culprits.**

**This story was started prior to Deathly Hallows and, due to the relationship between Albus Dumbledore and Severus "Snape" ;) that's presented in my story, it **_**is**_** and shall remain an AU. However, this story contains ideas that **_**somewhat**_** coincide with what J. K. Rowling wrote in the seventh book, but were actually written about the same time as the first chapter, give or take a few days, and I haven't decided whether to leave them as they are, or change them. That is, if I'm going to continue at all, but that's a question for later ;)**

**Enough rambling ;)**

**Lights! Camera! Action!!!**

**Chapter IV**

**Aftermath**

The memories that followed covered the prophecy and what Dumbledore had done in order to ensure that it would be fulfilled… starting with his 'wilfully abandoning' his son at an orphanage and then doing virtually the same to his grandson… only, Severus' life had been much worse than anything Tobias had suffered – at the orphanage or later…

SSS

A relatively young Albus Dumbledore had been sitting at an old desk, perusing various papers, when he heard a soft knock on his door, followed shortly after by a young woman – Annabel Dumbledore, nee Rochester, his wife.

"Have you found anything interesting?" She asked as she moved to stand beside him, her rounded stomach a testament of her advanced pregnancy.

"Not really, my love." Albus said sadly, rising from his chair and offering it to his wife. She accepted gratefully and looked through some of the papers.

Dumbledore had spent a lot of his time reading through prophecies old and new, searching for as much information as he could on the subject of prophetic vision, trying to find at least one prophecy that could mean their salvation.

"Do you really believe you will find your answer in these foolish prophecies, Albus? We're at war and this…" She shook her head as she looked down at the scattered papers. "I really don't see how crystal balls and tea leaves can help us."

"This is different, Anna! This isn't the same thing – these are real prophecies, made by true Seers!" Albus argued hotly, taking out some of the frustration he felt at not having found anything of interest on his beloved wife and regretting it as soon as she stood up indignantly, prepared to leave.

"I don't have to sit here and listen to your yelling. We can talk when you're ready to act as a civilised, rational person!" The tone of her voice was enough to cool the worst of his anger.

"Anna…" He caught her arm to stop her departure. "Anna… I'm sorry." He held her by the shoulders and turned her so that she would face him. It pained him to see tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, my love." He whispered softly, pulling her to him and enfolding her in a loving embrace, mindful of the child she was carrying. "I'm sorry."

And he really was sorry. He wasn't apologising for having snapped at her as much as for the fact that he hadn't had the time or even the mood to be with her; he hadn't been a very good husband of late – the weight of being among those leading the war against Grindelwald having proven to be too much for him.

"I just want to protect you – you and the little one – and there seems to be so little that I can do." He whispered against her hair, kissing the top of her head.

"I know, Albus. I understand, but you have to understand me as well." She looked up at him. "I… _**We**_ are going to have a baby soon. I know you want nothing more than to make sure that the war is ended by that time, but time is short and you have to come to terms with the fact that it may not be possible. Your child will need to have a father – whether there is a war going on or not! I have to know that you _**will**_ be there – for both of us! Some things are more important than others – family is the most important of them all!"

SSS

He'd already given up, he'd succumbed to his wife's reasoning and had abandoned his so far fruitless search for a prophecy that would bring hope to the Wizarding and the Muggle world… and it was only then that he'd found _**it**_!

It was only by accident that he'd stumbled upon a newly arrived prophecy while being at the Ministry of Magic. The sphere had appeared upon a desk, and when a passing wizard had hurried past it, his sleeve had got caught on the edge of the desk and it had been only due to Albus' quick reflexes that the prophecy hadn't crashed to the floor. He should have used a spell to catch it – prophecies could be dangerous when in the hands of a person they weren't meant for, but he'd had too little time to think on it. As he touched it, it called out to him… not literally, but he'd felt its pull – the prophecy was his to hear, and hear it he did.

_A child, wilfully abandoned, to be raised in pain, darkness and despair, shall walk down the path of Darkness._

_Irreversibly bound by its power, the child will find the strength to renounce the Darkness unfolding._

_By mastering himself, the royal bumblebee will have to find the strength to conquer his past, present and future._

_Walking in the shadows, he shall make the Darkness crumble from within, before it falls under an ancient power – severing all bonds and setting all free._

There'd been no author and the style was quite simple and straightforward – no rhymes or an abundance of colourful metaphors. Whoever was the author, Albus knew he liked him or her a great deal more than most Seers. While he'd been searching for a prophecy with something akin to desperation, he hadn't been as firm a believer in them as he'd made out to be. The prophecy appeared strangely clear, which was a rarity among prophecies, as many of them could never be deciphered at all.

Albus held the prophecy to his chest. **Hope**. There was Hope after all.

SSS

Shortly after his wife had given birth to a boy – whom they'd named Tobias (after Annabel's brother, who'd been killed in the war against Grindelwald) Percival (after his father, as it was one of Albus' names) – Albus came to the realisation that the prophecy would not unfold unless he did something about it.

But what?

He was fairly certain that the words pertained to his son, which gave him little hope for the nearest future, as the child would have to grow up before it could be fulfilled, but there was still the matter of the way the child had to grow up. The loving household Tobias had now was hardly filled with darkness – even if pain and despair did creep into it whenever Grindelwald made another massive attack and Albus could see no way to successfully counter his forces.

He had an idea, but his wife would never agree to it. Annabel didn't believe in prophecies and she would never allow for her child to be hurt – no matter what. Not that Albus himself wanted to see his son in pain… He didn't, he really didn't! He'd do anything to keep his son safe, but… But there was a bigger picture here. Besides, didn't the prophecy say that the bond to Darkness would be severed and that Tobias would eventually be free after the evil had been vanquished?

At least, it _**was**_ implied, wasn't it? The man reasoned with himself.

Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

SSS

The solution came with the tragic death of Albus' dear wife, when Annabel was killed in an attack by Grindelwald's forces. It was through a miracle that Tobias himself had survived in the wreckage that had become of the Dumbledores' home and his father – still in a state of shock at having seen his beautiful, much loved wife dead – had made a vow to see to it that the perpetrator paid for his crimes! The first thing he did in order to see that happen was to leave his only child at the first Muggle orphanage he deemed to be a safe enough distance from the frontlines.

As he left the small boy to face an unknown destiny, unsure of whether he would ever see him again and very much aware that the baby was the only thing he had of his beloved wife, Albus knew that a piece of his heart had stayed in that ugly building with Tobias… just like another piece of it had died along with Annabel.

Did that mean that he had no heart left? That he could not love?

But who or what _could_ he love, even if he did have a piece of his heart left? With Annabel gone and his son hidden away, he'd already lost everything he'd ever held dear… what else was there?

SSS

When he next saw his son, years after he'd given him up and some years after he'd attempted to find him once again, after Grindelwald's defeat, Albus felt a stirring within his heart that had been absent for far too long… only to have it quashed when he got to know the boy. This **wasn't **his son – he could not recognise his Annabel or even himself in the angry, cruel, hateful Slytherin.

Tobias Percival Snape

_**Tobias Percival Dumbledore**_

No, this boy wasn't who he was supposed to be.

Tobias Percival _Snape _he would remain, because that is who he'd grown up to be...

Or did he owe the boy the truth? Should he learn it? Then again, the boy hadn't even reached adulthood yet – there was still time, wasn't there? Perhaps the prophecy hadn't meant the Grindelwald war but a future one?

A nagging voice in his mind told him that it was his fault that Tobias had turned out the way he had. What had he been expecting – after having abandoned his son the way he had done?

He felt dead inside once more… What little hope he tried to maintain was not enough to keep his heart alive…

SSS

As Albus read the Daily Prophet, he flipped a page and his gaze was caught by the name: **Severus Tobias Prince-Snape**. This was the child of Eileen Prince-Snape and Tobias Snape. Seeing as Eileen was a pure-blood from a well-known, prestigious family, the Daily Prophet had been kind enough to give her son the name of 'Prince-Snape', instead of just 'Snape'. Such consideration must have cost a great deal of money, but that was a small price to pay in exchange for elevating the social standing of one's own child.

_Severus Prince-Snape_

_Severus Prince-__**Dumbledore**_

A 'royal bumblebee'. The _**real**_ child of the prophecy! Albus turned to read the announcement, his mind in a haze…

For the first time in years, he felt true hope flare in a powerful, vibrant flame. It was for that reason that he vowed to himself that he would not make the same mistake as he had with Tobias for the second time! He'd see to it that the prophecy was fulfilled and if at any time it seemed that he may have been mistaken regarding the prophecy's contents, he'd be there to step in and make sure that his grandson led the life that his son had been denied! He'd be there, watching and waiting, every step of the way – no matter how painful it would be. He'd help in any way he could, as long as it did not interfere with the outcome of the prophecy.

His heart stirred again… cautiously, in fear of facing another disappointment, but strongly nonetheless.

SSS

Albus loved his son, in his own way, and he always would, but it was an obligatory kind of love. Severus, his grandson, was an entirely different matter. Dumbledore genuinely liked what little he'd so far seen of the boy. Above all else, he admired the boy's strength of character and his intelligence – those characteristics were the most immediately apparent to him even at the necessary distance he kept from Severus. It pained him to see the effects his prophesised childhood had had on the young child… He loved the boy dearly! Had circumstances been different (namely: if he'd never come across that accursed prophecy or if he'd never made the connection between Severus' name and the child named within) Albus would have torn the boy away from his unworthy parents and, most likely, he would have spoilt his grandson rotten by lavishing him with love, affection and everything Severus' heart could desire…

Albus often dreamt of this. He dreamt of being a real grandfather to Severus. The old man found a profound pleasure in torturing himself with visions of a time that could not be. For the sake of the future of both the Muggle and magical world alike, Severus would have to suffer through childhood being not truly "unloved", but wholly ignorant of that fact just the same, which made such distinction pointless. It was cruel. Albus was being cruel. But that changed nothing…

Knowing that this was unavoidable did little to truly console Dumbledore, while at the same time the hope that it was worth it allowed him to go on.

SSS

When Severus resurfaced from the last memory, he left the office without a word, unable to face the old wizard's portrait and needing time to process what he'd learned before asking further questions.

He did feel that Minerva should have warned him of the emotions and thoughts that had accompanied the memories… He hadn't been prepared to witness Dumbledore's feelings the way he had.

It had been more painful than he'd have imagined – viewing those memories and seeing the Headmaster like that… he'd almost seemed _alive_…

He was in turmoil once again – just as he had been when he'd first confronted Dumbledore's portrait. This journey through memories had obviously been too much for him to handle right now. Severus hadn't managed to completely block out his emotions throughout the encounter and they'd risen to almost drown him in their chaotic, overwhelming flow… As he hurriedly swept through the castle corridors, he felt that he might suffocate under the onslaught of grief he was feeling… His vision blurred and he had to furiously blink back tears from his eyes.

Control. He needed control. He could not lose it – he could not allow himself such luxury again.

Severus wanted to stop, to try and regain his equilibrium, but he couldn't. He was running away, whether he was consciously aware of it or not, he was running from that office and from every place that held some kind of memory… Too bad that the old castle held nothing but memories for him… Every corridor, every room, every brick and every stone – even the shadows held secrets and whispered to him…

By a stroke of fate, his left arm chose exactly that moment to burn excruciatingly.

Well, the threat of death and much worse is one way to regain focus… He thought wryly, if somewhat absently, righting himself as he fought to regain enough control to stand without the support of the nearby wall – the sudden, intense physical pain had taken him completely by surprise, especially since he'd already been dealing with a great deal of emotional pain. He would have fallen, if not for the nearby wall, and he hadn't been able to stop himself from crying out, albeit softly.

The dark-haired man took a long, shuddering breath to clear his pounding head.

It was with a flicker of apprehension that he realised that he had no choice but to go and face Voldemort in a matter of minutes… the **Dark Lord**! He reminded himself. He was in no state for this audience – no matter that he had no idea what it might be about. Had the evil wizard realised that his Potions Master hadn't been brewing potions for him with the diligence that was expected of him, that he'd disappeared instead? Severus hoped that wasn't the case.

Slowly, he forced his mind to clear and built up powerful shields around himself – he had neither the time nor the strength for subtlety. If those walls crashed, all would be lost.

Another few minutes (or maybe fifteen) and Severus felt confident enough to start making his way out of Hogwarts. He didn't see a way to inform the Headmistress, not without wasting any more time. There was no way he could conjure up a Patronus – not in his current state of complete emotional withdrawal – and he didn't dare risk bringing those barriers down, even for a brief period of time – not when he would have to face the Dark Lord this evening. It had taken him long enough to lock his feelings away and, more importantly, he was fully aware that that was the only defence he was currently capable of, and it would arouse suspicion and prompt further probing, if noticed… His only true _hope _was that Vold… **the Dark Lord**… wouldn't have any reason to use Legilimency on him during the meeting.

He'd have to get his act together quickly, but it was impossible for him to do anything more tonight.

Hope.

Severus despised that word and what it represented: dependence. Hope made you dependent. It was like a drug – people needed it as much as (if not more than) the very air they breathed. Severus hated the feeling because it was one he himself was not entirely immune to. In his experience, hope had only ever brought him more pain than it was worth.

How he hated the feelings hope was inspiring in him now… Much more so than the ones his suspicious, pessimistic nature and life experience had awakened.

Things had been going quite smoothly of late – he'd been officially made the Dark Lord's right-hand man and he'd been given the title of Prince General. It wasn't an idle title either – he truly was the general of the Dark Lord's forces and the Death Eaters referred to him as either Prince General or just Prince. There was no need to play up his ties to the old Prince family by using a nifty nickname – he'd become a Prince in his own right, much to the consternation of Bellatrix Lestrange and some other Death Eaters who proclaimed themselves the Dark Lord's stoutest and most loyal supporters. Truth be told, Severus could hardly compete with them in that regard, seeing as he had no loyalty for Riddle whatsoever, but till yesterday he'd been the only person alive who'd known that to be the case. The Order's newly acquired knowledge was a source of serious concern for Severus, but he had no choice but to trust that Moody and Kingsley had been better Occlumency teachers than he had been to Potter. It had fallen to them to train the newest recruits in this difficult branch of magic… unfortunately, that didn't mean that they'd taken up teaching it to Potter or his friends.

Snape made a mental note to look into the matter when, or _if_, he got back.

SSS

Severus was just leaving the castle grounds when he saw a familiar figure making its way in his direction, but from the opposite side of Hogwarts' protective wards. Snape waited until the werewolf had stepped past them, he himself hiding from sight just to be on the safe side. The wards had been improved and they only allowed entry to members of the Order, and Flitwick had found a charm that rendered any person under the influence of the Imperius Curse, Mind-Controlling Potions, Polyjuice Potion or other means of disguise unconscious immediately upon stepping through the wards.

"I've been summoned, Lupin. Inform Minerva that I will return as soon as I am able." He said coldly and without preamble, not bothering with a greeting. Severus' face was perfectly expressionless but for the contemptible look in his dark, piercing eyes as they bore into the werewolf's brown ones.

Remus was startled: first by the man's sudden appearance and secondly by his cool address. Then again, it _was_ Severus. Whether he was a 'Snape' or a 'Dumbledore', he was still the same person. His grandfather's friendly manner certainly didn't mean that he'd adopt it in light of the latest revelations… or at least Remus now realised that it didn't. In that moment Lupin felt like a complete fool. He was honest enough with himself to admit that he had indeed been expecting some change in Severus. Not that they'd become friends or anything, but…

He sighed and headed for the castle. Snape hadn't waited for a reply and had swept past him without so much as a second glance or a 'goodbye'.

He could have at least said 'Please' or 'Thank you'! Lupin thought sourly.

SSS

"Forgive me for not arriving sooner, my Lord." Severus said as he executed a ceremonial bow and kneeled before the snake-like man, who was sitting in a large, throne-like armchair, with his back to the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace. He raised his eyes, seeking permission to straighten himself, as well as to gauge his master's mood. The Dark Lord waved his hand slightly, bidding him to stand and tilting his head to the side to indicate that he expected further explanations.

_Here goes nothing..._

SSS

Severus' mental shields finally gave way and the past, along with the emotions he'd been holding back, came to the surface with a vengeance.

He stormed through the castle to seek refuge in the quarters Minerva had assigned for him, even as the last of his mental defences crumbled. His magic was already slipping out of his control, the pressure building in preparation for a storm which was sure to breed more than simple lightning and thunder, but a huge whirlwind that would leave devastation in its wake. It was starting already, but Severus didn't have any attention to spare to either notice or care.

The moment the door closed behind him, Severus took a few stumbling steps and collapsed on the bed… crying. He hated this. He hated his weakness, but for the life of him, as the sobs racked his thin body, there was no strength left within him to stop them…

So much for Occlumency... So much for self-control...

It took several hours before the violent venting of his pain and anger finally rendered him completely numb and too exhausted to move a muscle.

Throughout the night, Severus drifted in and out of a fevered sleep: moving between, and waking from, one nightmare after another; facing fully-fledged flashbacks, when the dreams transformed into the harsh realities of his past that he most wished to forget; or seeing horrific visions of a future that was, impossibly, even worse...

**A/N **

**Should I continue? Is there any point or anyone who'd want to read it? The fate of this story lies in your hands ;)**

**Thank you to everyone who's ever reviewed and I hope you enjoyed my version of events.**

**All the best!!!**

**Gucia**

11


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